A Jedi's Heart 2  A Second Chance
by Aussie73
Summary: Thirteen years after a devastating loss, Qui-Gon Jinn receives a second chance at happiness.  Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**CHA****PTER 1**

**Notes:** In this AU, Qui-Gon survived the duel on Naboo (for those readers that didn't read _A Union Of Souls_). Palpatine was exposed as a Sith Lord several months into the Clone Wars and killed in a duel with Obi-Wan. This story is set a little more than three years later (probably just before the start of _Revenge Of The Sith_ in Lucas' universe).

**Pairings:** Qui-Gon/Other and Obi-Wan/Padmé.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila groaned as she heard the door to Dex's open. Near closing time and _more_ customers? For kriff's sake, she was already in her fresher singing badly and loudly in her mind!

Nevertheless, she pasted on her best smile and made her way out of the kitchen. The fake smile became genuine when she recognized one of the customers. Obi-Wan Kenobi was a good friend of hers and came in often – sometimes on official Jedi business, sometimes just for a caf and a bantha burger.

Kila knew some people were afraid of the Jedi and their mystical powers. She rather liked them, on the other hand. They were polite, always paid their bills and didn't trash the place.

Order pad in hand, she headed over to the Knight who'd taken a seat opposite a very big man dressed in similar fashion, but easily thirty years older than Obi-Wan and herself. Another Jedi Knight? "Hi, guys – what can I get you?" she asked.

Obi-Wan looked up from the intense conversation he'd been having in some strange language with the big man and smiled at her. "Good evening, Kila," he replied. "I'll have a caf and a _polan_ tart."

The big man looked up also, and Kila was startled at his strong, handsome features. Bright blue eyes, a firm chin and long gray hair gone silver at the sides made him look leonine and powerful. "Ah … just a glass of water for me, please," he said, giving Kila a warm smile.

Kila frowned playfully – she'd told Obi-Wan once that no-one could come to Dex's and not expect to be fed. "I can't get you something to eat?" she asked. She recognized the drawn look of someone who'd gone several hours without food or drink. "Something light but nutritious – Chandril winter broth perhaps."

The big man chuckled. "Persistent little thing, aren't you?" he teased. "The broth would be nice; thank you."

"Be with you shortly," Kila said, yanking her gaze away from those arresting features. Even though the rules regarding Jedi and attachments had been relaxed more than ten years ago, to the great pleasure of many people in the Republic, it didn't mean that this handsome older man would go for the likes of a little non-entity like Kila Marik.

"Don't rush off," Obi-Wan said now. "We could use a woman's opinion."

Kila passed the order to one of the waitress droids then sat down next to the big Jedi – she felt unusually drawn to him. "I'm all ears," she said.

"It shows," Obi-Wan said, face straight but eyelid drooping.

"Horrible beast," Kila replied mildly. "I don't think you deserve my wisdom now."

Obi-Wan widened his eyes and folded his hands together in a supplicating gesture. "Oh, forgive me, My Lady!" he teased. "I need your wisdom."

Kila sighed dramatically. "Very well," she acquiesced. "I'm listening."

Obi-Wan paused and looked suddenly bashful. "I'm … ah … thinking of proposing a bonding," he said.

Kila chuckled. "Well, it's about time," she said. "You've been insane about the Senator all the time I've known you!"

The young Jedi blushed, making him suddenly look much younger. "You could tell?"

The big man smirked at Kila. "So much for Jedi being attuned to feelings," he commented.

Kila shook her head firmly with a slight frown – she always got annoyed when she felt Obi-Wan was being put down. "It's sometimes easier to see other people's feelings – you have the benefit of distance," she said.

She'd met Obi-Wan several years earlier – just before the Clone Wars started – and they'd begun a friendship. Of a similar age to each other, both in their mid to late 30s, they had an almost brother/sister relationship. Obi-Wan had helped her overcome an almost crippling timidity and the insularity borne of her experiences just prior to her arrival on Coruscant and she'd cooked for him and listened to his troubles.

The handsome man raised an eyebrow. "Point taken," he admitted, yanking Kila back to the present. "I'm Qui-Gon Jinn, by the way. Jedi Master."

"Kila Marik." She clasped the Jedi's hand, her fingers almost swallowed whole by his. He was so very … large. He should have been intimidating, yet there was an aura of serenity about him that was very appealing.

_And let's not think that way!_, she told herself firmly. She turned her attention back to Obi-Wan. "So; what's the problem? You think Senator Amidala will say no?"

Kila couldn't see that happening somehow. She'd only seen the Senator and Obi-Wan together a few times, but sightless creatures in neighboring star systems could have seen that they were in love.

Obi-Wan blinked. "She's never expressed any interest in marriage," he said.

"When has she had the chance?" Kila countered reasonably. "It's only recently that you Jedi have even been allowed to marry – it's a big adjustment for Jedi and non-Jedi alike. She's probably just enjoying the fact that you can hold hands without facing censure." She smiled at the Jedi. "And she's still a bit younger than you, too."

Qui-Gon nodded his head, some long locks of hair dancing around his broad shoulders. And Kila felt the urge to push his hair back, run her fingers through the soft-looking strands. "You're very wise, Miss Marik."

"Kila … please," Kila said. "I'm not one for formalities."

"Kila," Qui-Gon repeated in that damnably soft voice with the unidentifiable accent, looking thoughtfully at her.

And Kila shivered. Now she understood the term 'bedroom eyes'. In the years since she'd left Tatooine and come to live on Coruscant, she'd seen many handsome men. Yet never had she felt any interest in one, never felt her senses comes alive like this. She shook her head minutely and smirked. "Of course I'm wise – I'm a woman," she offered smugly, rubbing at her aching neck.

Qui-Gon laughed out loud at this, drawing several interested stares from the other waitresses that remained at Dex's. "Modest, also," he replied dryly.

Kila shrugged her shoulders, and then looked down at her wrist chrono. "Sithspit! I hate to kick you boys out, but …" She got up and picked up Qui-Gon's empty glass and held out her hand for the crockery.

"But you're going to," Obi-Wan said, taking the unsubtle hint and finishing off his _polan_ tart in several inelegant gulps. He and Qui-Gon got up and made their way out of the booth, Obi-Wan throwing Dex a friendly wave. The hulking owner returned the wave with two of his four meaty hands before giving Kila a meaningful stare. Dexter Jettster was a good man and a fair boss, but he demanded a full day's work for a full day's pay.

"Sorry," Kila said. "It was nice meeting you, Master Jinn." She poured his soup into a large travel flask and handed it to him. Their fingers brushed and a wave of heat engulfed her.

"Qui-Gon," the older man corrected. "You're not one of my Padawans."

"Qui-Gon," she echoed obediently. She turned to the younger Jedi. "And you … don't over-think things. You love Senator Amidala, she loves you – just let things take their natural course."

"Yes, O Wise One," Obi-Wan intoned solemnly, that solemnity belied by his dancing eyes and poorly-concealed smirk.

Kila laughed. "Go away, you horrible creature!" she said, wondering anew at just how much like a brother the Jedi felt like to her.

"I'm going," Obi-Wan replied cheerfully. "I'll think about what you said."

"Good," Kila said. She wasn't sure she believed in soul-mates, but Obi-Wan and Padmé Amidala looked good together and were obviously very much in love.

"Good night, Kila," Qui-Gon added more quietly with another warm smile – a smile that crinkled his eyes and took years from his features.

"Good night, Mas … Qui-Gon," Kila said. The two Jedi left and Kila chuckled when low feminine groans greeted their departure. She had to agree … there was something magnetic about the quiet, self-disciplined Jedi. So much strength and power beneath a calm veneer – like an explosive substance building up.

She went to the kitchen and grabbed some cleaning equipment, then set to work cleaning up the detritus of a busy day.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila made herself a cup of caf and opened the window to step out onto her balcony. It might be tiny – with only room for one small table and chair – but it was _hers_. She stood against the railing and watched as the sun came up. Although she knew that Capitol City was climate-controlled, the beautiful misty oranges and reds never failed to impress her after twenty-some years of the scorching Tatooine suns.

She caught sight of her neighbor – a Twi'lek female maybe a little younger than herself – and returned the friendly wave. Like herself, Shalla had lived on Tatooine. Unlike herself, however, Shalla had been a pleasure worker in one of Jabba the Hutt's many flesh palaces.

Kila shuddered at what the beautiful young Twi'lek must have gone through. Kila had suffered enough hardship herself as Gardulla's personal attendant, but the female Hutt had shown no interest in selling Kila on to one of the flesh palaces. She probably wouldn't have got very much for her, anyway.

Jabba, on the other hand … He repulsed even the other Hutts for his many excesses and that was saying something. The reptilian Hutt species had an entirely different set of mores to that of most humanoid societies – they thought nothing of rape, murder, extortion, theft. Lives were merely another commodity to those long-lived creatures.

Gardulla had been bad-tempered and unpredictable, yet she'd never inflicted on Kila the worst of her violent inclinations until that terrible day nearly five years ago. And Kila hadn't always been a model slave – she had opinions and she'd sometimes voiced them. Kila had the feeling that something in Gardulla had wanted someone who would oppose her once in a while.

With a small shiver, and a quick prayer of gratitude to whatever higher being or beings had enabled her to escape Tatooine and come to Coruscant, Kila took a careful sip of the still hot caf. Then she bit into the delicious sweet and flaky pastry Dex had given her last night as they'd closed up. Dex was a tough guy and was famous for his brawls – both onworld and off – but he had a soft spot for Kila, feeding her during the day and acting as a defender against anyone that might come on too strong.

She checked her wall chrono and sighed. Time to hit the fresher then another busy day beckoned.

_You never know_, something inside her said slyly, _you might see Master Big And Handsome Jinn again._

Kila shook her head. _Shut up_, she told herself before heading for the fresher.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila shifted her heavy load and used her hip to bump open the door to the Temple Archives before breezing through, offering greetings to some of the Jedi she knew.

She passed Master Mace Windu, a very solemn intimidating Jedi, and nodded her head to him. "Master Windu," she said.

He nodded his smooth-shaven head and then returned his attention to his console – paying Kila no further attention. She could live with that. He wasn't being rude; he simply had very little time for anything outside of his duties as a Jedi Master. Kila could only admire that kind of dedication while knowing she could never replicate it – she was pretty scattered in some respects, prone to wild enthusiasm and a fondness for frivolity.

In an adjoining room, she could hear Master Yoda instructing some young neophytes in the mysterious ways of the Force, his odd grasp of Basic coupled with his small form making him seem endearing, eccentric … harmless, even.

Harmless! Great gobs of bantha poo-doo. She'd seen him once in action against another Master – a tall Mon Calamari who could have made ten of him. He was a whirling dervish of destruction, and Kila was just glad that he was on the side of Light.

"Good morning, Kila."

Kila turned and smiled at Obi-Wan. "Morning, _Master_ Kenobi," she said teasingly. She lifted her heavy load onto a handy table, and then opened one of the boxes to reveal two large cups of caf … along with a Corellian flatbread that was one of her particular favorites. Kila shook her head – Dex never lost out on a chance to feed her up. "Dex sends his regards," she told Obi-Wan, handing him one of the cups.

Obi-Wan grinned, making his face look startlingly boyish in spite of his nearly forty years. "Oh, I love you!" he said.

Kila chuckled. "I'd be flattered except I know you're talking to the caf." Obi-Wan's … fondness for the mild stimulant was famed throughout the Jedi Temple and beyond.

Obi-Wan returned the laugh. "Oh, you're as bad as I am, Miss Marik," he shot back. But that didn't stop him from taking a long draught of the cup and emitting a pleasured sigh.

"Well, as much as I'd love to stand here and chat, I have a job to do. And so do you," Kila said, poking her friend in the arm.

"Slave driver," Obi-Wan said dryly before taking _both_ cups of caf and departing with them.

"Hey!" Kila grumbled. "Man carries a lightsaber, thinks he's some kind of god …" She made her way into the large kitchen, mumbling to herself as she began restocking a nearby shelf with the supplies the Temple cooks had ordered.

She dragged the ladder over and made her way up, trying to ignore the fact that only a lightweight piece of metal stood between her and a nasty tumble to the ground.

Too late …

She gulped and her stomach churned. She finished putting away the supplies then began to make her way back down, but made the fateful mistake of looking down.

Never had three meters seemed so much before.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Knight and Master, exchanged quiet greetings with his erstwhile Padawan as the latter hung lovingly onto his two cups of caf. _Two_ cups? Who was encouraging Obi-Wan's consumption of the stuff?

Leaving that question for another time, the tall imposing Master made his way through the Archives, nodding at his fellow Master, Windu. The two large humans respected and liked each other but were very different. Qui-Gon was something of a rebel and had only recently been admitted onto the Jedi Council for that reason. He tended to think with his heart, although he'd tried to control that tendency since an ill-fated stopover on Tatooine thirteen years earlier.

His heart had led him to believe that a young slave-boy was the prophesied 'Chosen One', and he'd tried to buy the slave from his owner, an obnoxious Toydarian by the name of Watto. Watto had agreed – but only if young Anakin won the Boonta Eve podrace. Qui-Gon and Anakin became close during their preparations for the race and Qui-Gon had been saddened when Anakin had lost. Now he had no chance of securing Anakin's freedom. Or the parts they needed for the flyer.

He was unpleasantly surprised two days later to find the parts waiting for him. Not believing for a second that Watto would have given them out of the goodness of his heart, he investigated further and learned that Anakin had tried to steal them and had been killed. His broken hearted mother had then stolen them and had them delivered before returning to the shop and viciously strangling the Toydarian.

Qui-Gon abruptly brought his thoughts back to the present – _Mindful of the Living Force, you must be_, he could almost hear Master Yoda remind him – when he could feel fear choking him. Not his fear, though. Someone else's.

He reached out with the Force and followed the link into the kitchen to find a young woman near the top of a ladder, clinging desperately to the shelving. Kila Marik. "Let go of your fear," he told her gently. "I'll catch you should you fall."

A small snort of laughter reached him. "I'd break every bone in your body," she shot back.

Qui-Gon chuckled at the fallacy of that notion, and then stretched and brought his hands up to unlock hers from their death grip on the shelving. "Scared of heights?"

"How could you tell?" the woman grumbled, transferring her death grip from the shelving to his hands and allowing him to guide her back down the ladder. Once she reached solid ground, Qui-Gon was startled to realize that she barely reached his shoulder – her force of personality made her seem much bigger. "Thanks," she added shakily, pulling her hands out of his and dragging them over her hair, smoothing back the curling brown strands.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

The Jedi Master smiled slightly. "I live to serve," he said. He stretched his long frame, the movement pulling his top garment out of his pants and revealing a strip of flat tanned abdomen to Kila's interested gaze.

She blushed and looked away quickly then looked back when he placed a box of spices on one of the higher shelves with a flourish. "Thanks," she mumbled. _He's out of your reach_, she told herself. But then again, there was nothing wrong with looking, her libido reminded her.

"You're welcome," he said.

"And I'm not usually so witless but one of your fellow Jedi stole my caf, and I don't function very well without it this early in the day."

Now Qui-Gon grinned down at her, the gesture lighting up his face with mischief and taking years from him. "So, _you're_ the one who introduced my former Padawan to that noxious stuff," he commented.

"It is not noxious, it's delicious," Kila told the big Jedi solemnly, fighting the urge to return that mischievous grin.

The large man gave her a small bow. "I'll take you at your word – I've no use for stimulants myself, no matter how mild."

"Hey, you have your Force and I have mine." Kila laughed then reddened as she noted the beady eye of the head cook on her. "Anyway, I can't stand here and chat all day – I have work to do."

"As do I," the Jedi said. "It was nice to see you, Kila – perhaps we'll see each other again?"

"Well, I'm here nearly every day – I'm sure it'll happen," Kila said, then flapped her hand at him. "Go! Do … Jedi things."

Qui-Gon laughed then departed as quietly as he'd arrived.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Later that day, Qui-Gon strolled through the austere loveliness of the Jedi Temple, listening to the shrieks of laughter from a group of younglings, the gurgles and occasional soft cries from the babies in the crèche, and the grunts of exertion as teenage Padawans sought mastery of various forms of saber use.

He and Obi-Wan were masters of Soresu; a seemingly simple defensive technique and one of the first fighting forms developed by the Jedi. Qui-Gon was also rated expert in Ataru, a style dependent on almost dramatic sweeping and whining motions. Mace Windu had perfected his own style, Vaapad, which channeled his inner darkness. And Yoda had _his_ own frenetic style, Djem So, that compensated for the limitations placed on him by both his great age and small stature.

Most of the youthful Padawans were far too engaged in their exercises to pay attention as Qui-Gon walked by, but one – a relatively small Besalisk female – looked up and met Qui-Gon's gaze with a smile before blushing and returning to her practice.

Qui-Gon smiled slightly to himself, remembering his own youthful crushes – Jedi had just as many feelings as anyone else, although they could usually govern them better. He made a mental note of the young Besalisk's features and would find out who her Master was, to warn them that hormones were beginning to flow. Then he moved on.

"Well, well … long time, no see," he heard from his left.

He looked in that direction and noticed that Kila Marik had come up near him. It was interesting that he hadn't been aware of her presence sooner – he was usually better attuned than that. He gave her a smile. "Hello, stranger," he replied, returning her sardonic tone.

Kila grinned at that. "I'm just on my way back to Dex's," she said. "Come with me and I'll buy you a drink. Just as a thank you."

Qui-Gon looked down at the young woman, noticing suddenly the small lines around her eyes and mouth. Not as young as he'd first thought – perhaps Obi-Wan's age or a little younger. He could tell that she was interested in him, although she seemed not to be pursuing anything other than friendship.

He felt a reciprocal interest, but _his_ interest was a little less platonic. While she would never be beautiful, she _was_ attractive with her comely rounded figure, soft violet eyes and lovely curling hair in which he could happily bury himself.

He opened his mouth to say 'No, thanks'. Instead:

"I'd like that Kila"

was what came out instead.

_Now, __who said that?_

Kila beamed at him and shifted her now empty cartons to enable easier carrying. "Good," she replied simply. "I'd like to get to know you better and one can never have too many friends."

"Indeed not," Qui-Gon agreed.

They left the Temple and meandered through the beautifully tended grounds with its plethora of flora and fountains. By Qui-Gon's side, Kila heaved a deep sigh. "It's beautiful here, isn't it?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon agreed softly, looking down at her shining eyes and rapt expression. "I've spent most of my life traveling around the galaxy, but I still think this is one of the loveliest places of all."

"Mmm," Kila responded, tilting her head upward to examine the architecture of the Temple. "I haven't traveled much … I would think most people would get jaded after a while, though."

"I'm not most people," Qui-Gon replied.

Kila chuckled quietly. "_That_ I can believe," she said. "You're like no-one I've ever met."

Qui-Gon paused. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" The twinkle in her eyes suggested that it would have been better if he hadn't asked.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila smirked to herself, relishing the confusion in the older man's eyes. Obi-Wan knew her too well by now and rarely fell for her teasing. Fresh meat was always delightful.

"Brat," she heard the man murmur.

And she chuckled again, hugging the empty boxes closer to her as they threatened to topple.

"Allow me," Qui-Gon said courteously, relieving her of the boxes and tucking them under one large arm.

Kila wondered briefly what it would feel like to be encompassed in those long strong arms, tucked in close to that big, heavy body … "Thank you, kind sir," she said, dipping a quick curtsy and banishing her thoughts back to the sewer from whence they came.

"It's the least I can do – you're such a tiny little thing you were in danger of being buried alive," Qui-Gon replied, an irresistible dimple lodging in his cheek as he smiled.

And now Kila laughed out loud. Yes, compared to him she _was_ short – so were most humans – but no-one could ever characterize her hefty self as 'tiny'. She was not fat by any means – her busy active life precluding that – but her figure was full and round, with breasts and hips being a little too large for her small frame.

So 'tiny' was completely inaccurate!

She swallowed down the last guffaw that threatened when she realized that Qui-Gon was staring at her in bemusement. "I wasn't aware that I was so comical," he commented thoughtfully.

Kila patted his upper arm in consolation. "No offense," she said. "Just … me being described as tiny _is_ faintly ridiculous, don't you think?"

She regretted that question when Qui-Gon turned and perused her thoroughly – from the top of her curly head to the tips of her toes, decorated with several silver rings. "Tiny is not synonymous with frailty," he said now. "You may be of small stature but that's merely your outer shell. Do you assume that I'm a clumsy, ill-educated brute simply because I stand so much bigger than you?"

"No … of course not!" Kila said. "If I'd thought that, I wouldn't want to get to know you better."

"So, please accept the fact that I also don't judge you merely by outward appearances," the big Jedi said seriously.

This was strange for Kila to hear. Growing up as a slave, she'd seen how beautiful women were sought after – both for romance and rather more nefarious reasons. When she'd been younger, she'd had romantic dreams about a brave and handsome prince whisking her away from her servitude to a life of love and babies, but had soon learned that an unattractive slave would never catch anyone's eye. Whilst this meant she escaped the sexual predations of Gardulla's associates, for which she was profoundly thankful, she'd felt cheated out of a normal life.

"Kila?"

The worried query coming from Qui-Gon jerked her attention back to the present, and she smiled slightly. "I'm all right," she said quickly, patting a free hand this time.

"Good," said Qui-Gon, capturing her hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. "So, you'll think about what I said?"

"I will," Kila said, startled both at how _right_ this felt and how nice his big warm hand felt surrounding hers. Several calluses bore testament to years of labor and battle, yet the fingers themselves were long and slender – an artist's hands.

"Thank you," Qui-Gon said, squeezing her hand gently once more.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Warm and soft, with some rough patches indicating her hard-working life, Qui-Gon was startled at how … _right_ Kila's small hand felt inside his own as they walked hand in hand to Dex's.

Qui-Gon was naturally a warm, affectionate and passionate man, but it had been a long time since he'd felt so drawn to someone. The previous constraints of the Jedi Code had forced him to rein in his passions – to temper them with calm wisdom. Now, he was free of those constraints but hadn't expected to feel like this again at his age.

While strong and healthy, he was not a young man anymore – would soon fall prey to the effects of age and infirmity. He did not fear ageing or death, knowing that he would become one with the Force, but for the first time he found himself wishing he could be just a few years younger.

Kila waved her free hand suddenly in his face, making him realize that he'd drifted off. "Where were you just then?" she asked.

"Just thinking about … age, death," Qui-Gon replied as they walked into the diner. He put the boxes on the counter and nodded at Dex who returned the nod.

"Such a cheerful soul," Kila quipped, slipping her hand out of his and donning an apron. "Is that what I'll be like when I reach your advanced years?"

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed as he realized that she was paying him back for the 'tiny little thing' comment. "Oh, I don't think you have to worry about reaching my age, you brat," he said.

Kila grinned up at him. "This is going to be an … interesting friendship," she commented.

"Oh yes," Qui-Gon replied. He'd probably want to strangle her within a week …


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

It had been several days since her encounter with Qui-Gon Jinn in the Temple kitchen and their light lunch following that, yet Kila found herself thinking of the man frequently. He was quiet, courteous, charming in an old-fashioned way. Yet he had passion and strength behind that 'gentle giant' mien.

Kila shook her head, bewildered. What was it about this one man that made her senses hum? He was handsome – in an unusual rough fashion – yet she'd met men much more classically handsome than he and had felt nothing.

"Don't over-analyze, Kila," she told herself firmly. "You have an interesting new friend, nothing more than that."

But if that was the case, why then did Qui-Gon's bearded visage insist on coming to mind at the oddest times?

Tonight was a prime example of that. She'd been sleeping peacefully when her dreams had morphed into images of she and Qui-Gon sitting side by side, her head on his shoulder; walking in the Temple Gardens arm in arm; exchanging sweet loving kisses; him at her bedside as she brought their child into the world …

She'd awoken startled and disoriented and had decided to get up, since she was unlikely to get any more sleep this night.

Nibbling thoughtfully on a spicy Korun pastry, she made her way out onto the balcony to watch the sunrise – which would begin in a little over an hour. She perched on her chair and rested her feet on the balcony, enjoying the cool night breezes wafting over her flushed cheeks and ruffling her long curls.

She looked out at the tall buildings that surrounded her – Coruscant was mostly a city planet and therefore had little in the way of natural structures. But to Kila, who had grown up on the suns-bleached planet of Tatooine, knowing nothing but sand and scorching heat, Coruscant was beautiful.

She pulled a face as she saw some multi-tentacled being lurch to a halt and expel something industriously from its stomach. Of course, not _everything_ on this planet was beautiful.

Suddenly losing her appetite for the pastry, she threw it in the small trash compactor and decided to have a cup of _zlinth_ juice instead. The _zlinth_ fruit only grew on Waykan in the Outer Territories and was very hard to come by. Yet Dex always seemed to have some that would just 'go to waste' if Kila didn't take it off his hands.

It was funny, Kila mused with a small fond smile. It had been nearly five years since she'd come into his diner in response to his advert for waitresses, yet he still saw that same frightened girl – skin and bones topped off by a pile of untidy curls.

Kila suspected that the massive humanoid, who'd never married, saw her as the daughter he would likely never have. He'd taken her in, fed her up, got her injuries healed and given her a part-time job. As her strength and confidence had increased, she'd started working longer shifts and had been able to earn enough to rent this small apartment above the diner.

A frugal person by nature, Kila spent little of her wages on more than the necessities, and after several years had saved up enough to be able to make a down-payment on a place of her own. Yet she never had. She liked her little home – it was handy for work and also not too far from the Jedi Temple, where her other friend Obi-Wan lived.

Some would have found Kila's life dull and unbearably lonely, but after the chaos and violence of her life on Tatooine, she prized her solitude, her privacy. Privacy had been unheard of as a slave on Tatooine – she'd shared quarters with twenty other slaves, had not even been allowed a pallet of her own.

Things had gotten a little better when she'd been purchased by Gardulla. The Hutt liked to dress up her attendants and had been particularly insistent on their keeping clean. Mammalian species were especially noxious to the reptilian being it seemed, and Kila had been more than happy to comply with her owner's wishes.

Gardulla had probably been the nicest of her owners. As her personal attendant, Kila had reaped the benefits of her owner's frequent wins at sabacc, in the form of an extra rest hour or a warm bath instead of the usual ice-cold air blast that literally blew the dirt off the skin. However, when the Hutt's mood turned truly ugly, Kila – along with the other slaves – had quickly learned to stay out of the way.

Kila shuddered, remembering when she'd done something – Gods alone knew what! – to upset Gardulla. As punishment, Gardulla had had her stripped down to her undergarments, beaten and thrown out into the night.

Tatooine's desert climate produced broiling heat by day and frigid cold by night. Kila had managed to stagger painfully to her feet and find her way to a nearby cave that had smelled suspiciously like bantha droppings. There she had huddled up under a tattered old blanket and had hoped to make it through the night. And, if she did, she vowed, she would beg, borrow, steal until she could get enough credits to get her off world.

Her chance came sooner than she ever would have thought. Two days later, she awoke feverish and disoriented, to tiny little beings jabbing at her with gaffi sticks and gibbering in broken remnants of Basic, with some Huttese and whatever their native language was.

Jawas.

Kila had realized that she was in no immediate danger – the tiny desert scavengers were inherent cowards. She'd sat up and that evidently frightened the little beings, for they all startled backward and jabbered some more. "Space … port," she managed to get out. "Bacta … medical …"

The following days had gone by in a semi-conscious blur. She'd awakened to find herself in what looked like a cell. Except that it was packed to the brim with weapons, spice, and other drugs.

The door to the hold had opened and a giant Wookiee had reached in and pulled her out with one hand, then carried her to a tiny kitchen where a young human boy – perhaps six, no older, yet already cocky – scowled good-naturedly at the big Wookiee. "Another stowaway, Dewlanna? You know what Shrike'll do if he catches you!"

The Wookiee howled something in response and patted the young boy on the head, ruffling up his hair.

"Yeah, yeah," the young boy – already heartbreakingly cynical – replied. "You know his motto – 'everyone works'."

The Wookiee – Dewlanna – grumbled and woofled something, then lay Kila down gently on the long bench. The massive paw drifted with surprising gentleness over Kila's burning forehead before the paw was replaced with a poultice of some sort.

Several days of hiding from the mysterious "Shrike" passed, and the _Trader's Luck_ landed on what a now fever-free Kila had learned was a planet somewhere in the outer reaches – even beyond the Rishi Maze. In contrast to Tatooine, the planet was gray and it rained constantly, but it was on trade routes to the inner core. The _Trader's Luck_ could venture no further – they were wanted – but Kila should be able to get passage to one of the inner systems.

Kila had grown rather fond of the skinny smart-mouthed boy and his giant friend, and it had been with genuine sadness that she'd bidden them farewell before going to meet with Lama Su; a minor functionary on this world who would facilitate Kila's passage to the core.

Several weeks and many transfers later, Kila had arrived on the busy city planet of Coruscant. She'd long since used up the few credits that Dewlanna and young Han had given her, and had eaten nothing in nearly seven days.

She staggered tiredly along the crowded streets of Capitol City, no-one paying her any attention, except to tell her to "Get a bath, girl!".

Finally, she saw a small 'Help Wanted' poster on a diner window and decided to take her chances that the manager would see past the half-starved dirty body to the hard worker underneath.

Dexter Jettster had immediately made her sit down, wrapping her in a giant cloak and shouting for one of the other waitresses to bring a warm cup of _kevas_ – a soothing herbal tea – and a small bowl of vegetable broth.

Dear Dex … He'd been the first person on this planet to befriend her, and she would always love him for that. Starved of parental guidance and affection, Dex had given both to her, and seemed to truly love her despite her flaws.

She'd met Obi-Wan nearly two years later when he'd come in to ask Dex about a mysterious assassin's dart in his possession. Kila had recognized it as Kaminoan from her brief time on Lama Su's planet and had shyly supported Dex when the young Jedi had looked doubtful at Dex's theory.

"And you are …?" the cultured Coruscanti had asked, looking her up and down assessingly. But not as an owner or prospective one would – it seemed that he was taking her measure, ascertaining her character.

"K-Kila Marik," Kila managed to get out. She'd never been this shy, even as a slave, but the horrible beating and expulsion, followed by weeks of fleeing from one planet to another had damaged her emotionally as well as physically.

"Well, it's nice to meet you," the Jedi replied, extending his hand to shake hers.

Kila had gasped and stumbled backward, recalling another set of male hands that had touched her – hands that punched, shook, wielded a whip and a knife with brutal efficiency.

Dex had wrapped all four of his arms around her as a startled Obi-Wan held his hands up. "I'm sorry Miss," he'd said.

"E … excuse me," Kila had managed to get out before running out to the fresher and being violently sick.

Dex, bless him, hadn't pried into her violent over-reaction to a simple courtesy, although something told her that he understood a lot by what she _hadn't_ told him. Had never told anyone.

A full day had passed before she saw the young Jedi again. He came in briefly to apologize for upsetting her, and she had decided that it was time to let go of the past – it would no longer hold her prisoner.

She'd given the Knight a warm brief smile then had introduced him to caf, a mild stimulant for which she'd developed a taste over the last year or so as her systems had become stronger. After he returned from his mission, he'd started coming in frequently for her caf and now, three years later, they were the best of friends.

Kila sipped the remnants of her juice and decided to have a day at the market. Dex had given her an extra day off for the double shift she'd worked the previous day, and she didn't want to waste a single hour.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Less than an hour later, dressed in pants and comfortable sandals, Kila stepped out into the already busy street and headed to the nearest public transport stop-point.

Swoops came by with monotonous regularity and soon Kila was on her way to the markets, enjoying the early morning sunshine and the subdued chatter of the other passengers.

A grimy being insinuated itself next to her – Kila grimaced and leaned back, wondering if she'd smelled this bad when she'd arrived in Capitol City. Likely so. "Hey, lady, you wanna some death sticks?" he … she … it asked.

"No, thanks," Kila replied, looking away steadily.

That only seemed to encourage the revolting being. "Best sticks to be found anywheres on Coruscant! Tells ya what; give ya one to try now, huh? Then when ya wants more, you come find old Ralta? Huh? Huh?"

"I said _no_," Kila said. "Leave me alone, you grubby little reptile, or I'll feed you to a sarlacc!"

It appeared that the creature didn't understand Huttese, for it pressed closer, its rank breath wafting over her. "So, pretty lady; what ya say? Give ya one to try now?"

Then someone said calmly, "You don't want to sell her any death sticks."

A strange look came over the being's face, and he said; "I don't wanna sell her any death sticks."

The calm voice – Kila looked up and saw Qui-Gon flick his hand past his face – continued; "In fact, you're going to get out of the death stick business and rethink your life."

"I'm going to getta outta the death stick business and rethink my life."

"And you're very sorry for intruding on this young lady."

"I's very sorry for intruding on you, pretty lady," the being said.

And with that the creature was gone. Kila looked up at Qui-Gon's towering form with a wide smile, absurdly happy to see him. "How did you _do_ that?" she said.

"Simple Force suggestion – it works well on such weak-minded creatures as he," Qui-Gon replied, giving her a warm smile. "Are you all right, Miss Marik?"

"Kila, please," Kila said. "And, yes, I'm fine – he was more of a nuisance than a threat."

"Feed him to a sarlacc?" Qui-Gon gave her a more mischievous smile. "You don't hold back when someone annoys you, do you?"

Somehow, Kila wasn't surprised that the Jedi understood Huttese. She shrugged and laughed. "I was speaking Huttese before I learned Basic – it still pops up now and then when I'm not concentrating." She patted the seat next to her. "Sit _down_ for kriff's sake, Master Jinn; you're giving me a crick in the neck."

He obeyed with alacrity and eyed the giant shopping basket on Kila's lap. "Doing a little shopping, I see," he said.

Kila chuckled. "Do those famed Jedi abilities include a knack for stating the obvious?" she teased.

Qui-Gon returned the chuckle. "Evidently so," he replied. Then he muttered something under his breath that sounded very much to Kila liked the word 'brat'.

Kila smiled back at him helplessly – he really was incredibly attractive, she thought. Not to mention protective, funny and wise.

Wasn't she a bit old to be suffering from her first crush?


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Kila shifted her laden basket from one hand to the other, pleased with the results of her work. Her time as Gardulla's personal attendant had instilled in her a knack for haggling, and she had been able to talk down several vendors.

"Allow me," Qui-Gon said, relieving her of the heavy basket. He'd warmly accepted Kila's invitation to join her and had been a quiet pleasant companion for several hours.

"Oh, thank you," Kila said, rolling her head to loosen the stiff muscles of her neck. She was prone to aches and pains in her neck and shoulders – due partly to the manual labor of her job and due partly to her full breasts being ill-suited to her small-boned structure.

She sighed as her neck gave a satisfying click, and then tucked her hand into Qui-Gon's free one. "Well, I'm done," she said. "Is there anything you need to do?"

"I have no plans this afternoon," Qui-Gon replied. "There is a meeting of the Council that I must attend, but that's not for another five hours." He squeezed her hand. "How about we take your shopping back to the Temple – it's very near this part of town – and then catch a transport to the country?"

"There's country on Coruscant?" Kila was surprised at that. "As in grass, trees, flowing water?"

"There's a small Jedi reserve at Erith, where we often go to meditate," Qui-Gon replied. "Non-Jedi rarely go there, but I believe you would like it."

"Oh, I would," Kila said. Except in holographs, she'd never seen the countryside. "Lead the way, O Jedi Master," she added grandly.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are really quite strange?" he commented as they left the market.

Kila looked up and saw that the dimple had made an appearance. She bumped up against him. "Beast," she shot back.

He bumped back against her, causing her to stagger and lose her footing. "I'm all right!" she declared with a laugh, picking herself up. "You don't know your own strength, Qui-Gon!" She dusted herself off quickly, ignoring the tiny throbbing of her ankle – it was congenitally weak and turned on a regular basis.

"Can I give you a hand?" Qui-Gon asked.

Just as her hands reached her posterior.

She looked up at him suspiciously. _Did he just say what I thought he said?_ She wouldn't have thought the dignified Jedi Master would be so bold. "No thank you," she replied then laughed. "Now who's the brat?" The saucy creature!

"Well, I can't let you have all the fun, can I?" Qui-Gon smiled then touched her shoulder quickly. "You're limping," he pointed out.

"Really … I hadn't noticed," Kila replied sarcastically. She put her hand into the crook of his elbow and tugged him out of the way of some Twi'leks – already the worse for wear judging by their unsteady gait.

"Your sarcasm aside, did you hurt yourself when you took that tumble?"

"It'll be fine," Kila said. "My ankle's always been a bit weak – I just have to keep walking so that it doesn't stiffen up."

"I didn't mean to hurt you – it was just a friendly push," Qui-Gon blathered on. "I forget how small you are."

Kila wondered how she was going to shut him up. Grabbing his face and kissing him hard on the lips was a tempting notion, but she didn't think he'd appreciate that somehow. Instead she put her hands on his shoulders. "Qui-Gon?"

"Yes?"

"You talk too much." Kila reached up and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. "There's nothing to worry about – honestly."

"Well, all right." Qui-Gon dipped his handsome head and returned the light kiss.

Kila resisted the adolescent urge to touch her cheek – he had an interesting combination of scratchy whiskers and very soft lips. Made her feel … tingly.

The sudden thought skipped through her mind that maybe Qui-Gon _was_ interested in her romantically. She suspected that some of their interactions _were_ rather flirtatious. Maybe she had an over-inflated ego, but she didn't think Qui-Gon behaved this way with all the women of his acquaintance. Yes, he was charming, a little rakish even, with a talent for flirting that must come naturally given the rules that had bound him for over fifty years.

But just because she was attracted to him, it didn't mean that it was reciprocated. And there was no way of finding out without risking looking foolish or – worse – pathetic. Once again, Kila felt robbed of a normal life, and acknowledged the resentment she bore the father who'd abandoned them both before Kila's birth, and her mother who'd abandoned Kila to follow her supplier around the worst parts of the galaxy.

She knew her father not at all and had only a few memories of her mother – before the death sticks had taken their toll. Reean Marik had been a young woman – only 18 when Kila was born – with a pretty face, slim figure and a joy for life that even the hard life of a slave on Tatooine couldn't eradicate.

Kila had inherited her mother's small frame but little else. Reean had been black-haired with deep brown eyes and an olive complexion that gave her good resistance to Tatooine's suns. Kila, on the other hand, had brown hair, pale skin and unusual violet eyes that she put down to an alien connection in the distant past. Violet eyes were _not_ seen in humans but were seen in human-alien mixes.

She broke off her train of thought abruptly – she'd never seen the point of feeling sorry for herself, and she wasn't about to pick up that habit. Everything in her life – good and bad – was part of what made her Kila Marik, and most of the time she was happy with whom she was.

Of course she suffered moments of doubt – what sane, wise person didn't? – but all in all she had no complaints. She had her home, a job, her health, good friends, and a beautiful day to enjoy with her newest friend. So, why spoil it by yearning for something more?

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila followed Qui-Gon uncertainly into the deeper recesses of the Jedi Temple – where the private dwellings were located. Most of the Jedi they passed were too polite to stare, but Kila could see their curiosity at her and Qui-Gon's linked hands.

She blushed fiercely as they rounded the corner and met up with Master Yoda, hobbling along on his gimer stick. "Greetings," he said, his large eyes flickering over Qui-Gon and Kila, taking in everything.

"Greetings, Master Yoda," Qui-Gon replied comfortably, easily even. Then Kila recalled that Qui-Gon served with Yoda on the Jedi Council.

The strange powerful little being nodded then looked up at Kila. "Know your face I do, young one," he said now. "But know your name I do not."

There was something compelling about the little Jedi. Kila coughed. "Ahh … there's no reason you should, Master Yoda. I'm Kila Marik," she managed to croak out.

"Of course, of course. Makes much mention of your caf does young Kenobi." The wrinkled face took on a sudden impish look. "Without much of his intelligence he is until that first cup of caf he takes."

Kila laughed at that, recalling many a morning where Obi-Wan had come to her apartment to wheedle a cup of caf from her before she went work. "My fault, I'm afraid," she said, grinning at the tiny Jedi Master. "I introduced him to that quote, unquote noxious stuff." She aimed a mischievous grin at the man standing quietly next to her.

Qui-Gon chuckled and shook his head. "What a brat you are," he commented. "Isn't she, Master?"

"Indeed, indeed," chortled the ancient being, and then tapped Kila's leg with his gimer stick. "Much joy and great spirit you have, young one. A brat you should remain."

"Oh, I do my best," Kila laughed, finding herself liking the old Jedi immensely.

He looked up at Qui-Gon. "At the Council meeting you will be?" he inquired.

"Of course," Qui-Gon said.

"Good. Then importune you further I will not," Yoda said. He motioned for Kila to bend down and she did so curiously. "Pleased I am that come into Qui-Gon's life you have. Good for each other you are."

_And he knows this after less than a half an hour?_, Kila mused doubtfully but didn't argue with the venerable Jedi Master. "Ah, thank you," she mumbled, blushing hard. She was nothing special – just an everyday woman trying to lead her life. She had no special abilities, was not particularly intelligent, and had little in the way of good looks. Nothing to warrant this attention.

Yoda tapped her knee hard with his gimer stick. "Doubt yourself you should not," he scolded as Kila winched. "Much to give you have. Shy away from it you should not."

"Uhh … I'll try," Kila replied then caught at the gimer stick before it could make contact once more. "Please don't keep hitting me," she said. "I don't want to have to tell people that a member of the Jedi Council beat me up."

Yoda cackled gleefully. "Oh, _like_ you I do, young Kila Marik!" He patted her knee with his tiny hand then gestured and the gimer stick flew into his waiting hands. "Now, go you must, young ones – enjoy this day you should."

And, with that, the little Jedi was gone.

Kila got back up, running a hand through her curls. "Why do I feel like he was testing me?" she mumbled, staring at Qui-Gon.

Much to her surprise, the handsome Jedi looked as baffled as she felt. "I have no idea," he said slowly. "Master Yoda never does anything without reason, but he did seem to like you."

"I liked him too," Kila said, then bent and rubbed her bruised knee. "I could have done without him hitting my knee so hard, though," she grumbled. She straightened up and tucked her hand back into Qui-Gon's, no longer so intimidated by the passing Jedi. "Anyway, let's dump this basket and get to the country you've promised me."

"Of course, milady," Qui-Gon deadpanned. "Your every wish is my command."

_And if my wish is to find out what that broad chest looks like uncovered?_

The licentious thought – for her at least – popped unbidden into Kila's mind, and she cursed her fair skin as it burned hotly. "As it should be," she shot back to hide her discomfiture and waved her hand grandly. "Lead the way, good sir."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Less than two hours later, Qui-Gon was watching Kila's rapt features as her head twisted this way and that, trying to take in as much as she could. She did not rush around or disturb the peace – she walked quietly, almost reverently, Qui-Gon mused. Only her wide eyes and beautiful smile gave her away. Although she was not beautiful, she was quite lovely – warm, caring, witty, loving …

A giggle broke off his musings and he looked at the object of his affections to see her indicating a large purple moth that had landed in her hair. "I think it likes me," she laughed.

Qui-Gon brushed his fingers gently over her hair – Force, it was _soft_ – and caught the beautiful fragile creature. "He has good taste," he informed her.

They watched as the moth flew away, and then Kila pushed him playfully. "You big flirt," she accused then headed for a bush of flowers. Qui-Gon feared for an instant that she would pick one of the scarlet and white blooms but she didn't. "Oh, how beautiful …," she murmured, bending over to breathe deeply of the fragrant blooms.

Then she was away again, heading for the small brook with the eagerness of a child on its first school trip. She kneeled down by the brook and dabbled her fingers in the water with a blissful sigh. Then she took off her sandals and dipped her toes in, giving a girlish squeal at the coldness of the water.

"That's it," she declared. "Bring me food once a week – I'm never leaving this place."

Qui-Gon chuckled, and then his breath caught when she sat down and tipped her face up to the sun. He'd seen many exotically beautiful women in his years – had bedded more than a few of them – but none had ever resonated with him in the way this woman did. No-one since Shmi. "I think Dex might have something to say if you don't turn up for work tomorrow," he said, trying to ignore the tempting expanse of her pale throat.

Kila laughed, completely unaware of the inviting picture she presented just then. "You have a point," she admitted. She looked up and extended her hand to him. "How long has it been since you dangled your feet in here?" she asked.

"I … can't recall," Qui-Gon said, taking her hand and sitting down next to her cross-legged.

"If you can't remember, then it's definitely been too long," Kila said. "It feels really nice," she added, swishing her feet in the water and not seeming to care that her pants were soaked at the ankles.

Qui-Gon balked a little. Wasn't he too old for that kind of thing?

"Oh, come on," Kila laughed. "You don't want to be a grumpy old man before your time, do you?"

Qui-Gon shook his head and laughed helplessly before removing his own shoes. "Certainly not," he said, dipping his large feet in the cool water.

If only the Jedi younglings who held him in such awe could see him now, he mused. Awe would be the _last_ thing they felt.

"Better," Kila said. She shifted closer to him and rested her head on his arm then closed her eyes.

"Much," Qui-Gon agreed, smiling down at her head before bending and rubbing his cheek over her soft curls in a gentle caress. He closed his eyes and felt the world melt away – his whole being surrounded by the Force, by Kila and the pure contentment of this moment.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

After the Council meeting, Obi-Wan Kenobi approached his former Master, who was discussing something in low tones with Master Yoda. "Excuse me; I didn't mean to interrupt," he said.

Yoda smiled at him. "An interruption you are not, young Kenobi. Merely discussing we were the grounds at Erith – quite lovely they are." The ancient Jedi gave Qui-Gon a mischievous glance and added, "Especially with the right company."

Obi-Wan was surprised when a faint blush swept over Qui-Gon's features, making him look suddenly young and even … vulnerable. "Yes …," he agreed cautiously. The Temple had been buzzing for the last two days about he and Padmé's betrothal – he hoped this teasing wasn't aimed at him.

Although, if that _were_ the case, why had Qui-Gon blushed?

Was he … involved with someone? It was possible, Obi-Wan admitted. He knew of several women who would love to know Qui-Gon Jinn more intimately.

Since the relaxation of the rules on attachment, Qui-Gon had had several relationships. A couple could have been serious, but it had always seemed to Obi-Wan that the older man was holding himself back – limiting himself to purely physical interactions.

Many years ago, he'd formed a strong attachment to Shmi Skywalker – the woman who'd given them shelter on Tatooine. But that potential had died when she and her child had died. Since then, Qui-Gon had guarded himself against getting too close to anyone.

"I know you're curious, Obi-Wan," the older Jedi said now. "I'm not … involved with anyone, but there is … potential."

Who? The only person Obi-Wan could recall seeing Qui-Gon spend significant time with was Kila …

"Kila?" he realized now. He'd considered the pair may suit each other, but hadn't anticipated their growing close so quickly.

Qui-Gon dipped his head briefly in affirmation. "We've been spending some time together, but I don't want to rush things. She's … special to me."

Looking at the glow in his former Master's eyes and the slightly sappy smile, Obi-Wan had to wonder if _he_ looked that love-struck when thinking of Padmé. Likely so. "She's a wonderful woman," he agreed. "You're a fortunate man."

"Thank you," Qui-Gon said in low tones – he'd never been very comfortable discussing his personal life. "Well … I should go – I believe I need to meditate."

"Good night, Qui-Gon," Yoda said softly, almost as if he felt bad for teasing his former Padawan.

"Good night, Master Yoda, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, and then hurried away as if Klontak hounds were nipping at his ankles.

Obi-Wan smiled slightly at the older man's obvious discomfort then the smile broadened when he saw Padmé waiting for him at the end of the corridor. Goodness knows, he'd taken long enough to propose to Padmé – he really should not be teasing Qui-Gon. Although Qui-Gon possibly deserved it for how much he'd teased Obi-Wan when he'd begun his relationship with Padmé.

He nodded to Yoda then hurried down the corridor to his betrothed, who was looking lovely in a simple cream gown. Since her term as Queen of Naboo ended, she'd given up the ornate face paints and head-dresses of that office, and allowed her soft brown hair and equally soft brown eyes to be free of artifice. With her small stature and delicate features, she was quite simply the most beautiful woman he knew.

She greeted him with a warm kiss then put an arm around his waist. "I saw Qui-Gon just now – is he all right? He was very flushed and didn't even reply when I said hello."

Obi-Wan smiled and shook his head. "It's personal," he said. While Padmé _was_ his betrothed, he knew that Qui-Gon would resent his business being discussed behind his back.

"Well, I hope he's all right," Padmé said. She squeezed his side with her delicate hand – a hand that was extremely proficient with a blaster, he recalled. "Anyway, shall we adjourn to your apartment and pick up where we left off this morning?"

Obi-Wan swallowed hard as he recalled exactly what he and Padmé had been doing during those wild and beautiful hours this morning. "Absolutely," he said, hoping that he sounded nonchalant rather than like an over-eager adolescent.

Judging by the soft laughter coming from the beautiful woman beside him, he rather suspected that the latter was more the case.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila lay awake in her bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling. She needed to go to sleep – she had to get up again in six hours for work – but sleep was proving elusive. She found herself thinking about the wonderful day she'd spent with Qui-Gon – the playful banter, gentle caresses, his solid warmth, the entirely natural way she'd awoken to find her head on his chest and his long arm wrapped comfortably around her.

The impromptu nap was probably another good reason why she couldn't sleep, she now realized. Yet she couldn't bring herself to regret it.

She'd awoken several minutes before him and had taken the opportunity to study his strong handsome features closely. She'd begun inching closer to him, prepared to kiss him, when he'd woken up and she'd lost her nerve.

_Coward!_, she chastised herself. She knew little about men, even less about romance, but even she knew that he wouldn't have rejected her. So why was she so fearful about a simple kiss?

Not for the first time, she found herself wishing for a close female friend to talk to – to share her difficulties with. She didn't feel comfortable discussing her problems with the other waitresses at Dex's – they wouldn't understand why a woman Kila's age was feeling so unsure – and her best friends were male and couldn't see things from her perspective.

She gave a frustrated growl and rolled over once more, now staring out the window at the clear Coruscant night.

_Stop thinking about him!_, she ordered herself. _Yes; he's handsome, funny, sweet – if not a little cheeky – but you need SLEEP, woman!_

She flopped over onto her back and stared up at the blank ceiling, trying to think of boring images – accounts ledgers, smashball matches, the absurd holovid melodramas that Dex watched while in the kitchen …

None of these images worked as she found her mind being drawn back to the beautiful afternoon she'd spent with Qui-Gon in the grounds at Erith. "Ugh!" she growled again and got up, giving up on the idea of getting to sleep this night. It was ridiculous – she was acting like some lovesick adolescent and she was many years past her adolescence!

She padded into the kitchen and made herself a _kevas_ then headed to her bookcase and perused her small well-read collection. None of the volumes appealed to her and she curled up on the couch sipping her _kevas_ and allowing her mind to drift back to that afternoon …

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Earlier that day:**

Kila opened her eyes and gazed muzzily around her, wondering where in the Sith hells she was. Her head lay on something firm yet yielding which seemed to be rising and falling, and something held her there.

It took several seconds for her to realize that her head on Qui-Gon's broad chest, the hollow of his throat temptingly close. Also, that was his powerful arm that was wrapped around her waist holding her closely to his side.

She lifted her head up slowly, not wishing to disturb his sweet slumber, and took in his handsome features. The deep lines around his eyes smoothed out when he slept, she noticed, and his lips were parted slightly, looking soft, warm and inviting.

She traced his cheekbones lightly with the pads of her index fingers, stroked back some hair that had fallen into his face, and then meandered down to his lips.

Were they as soft as they looked? How would they feel pressed against her lips? She caressed them carefully then, almost without conscious thought, began to lower her face to his.

Then the man heaved a deep sigh and stretched. And Kila shot back as if she'd been caught doing something terrible. "Hello," he murmured warmly, hugging her gently before releasing her.

"Um … hello," she replied stupidly. "Khest; I can't believe I fell asleep in the middle of the day – I think I was an infant the last time that happened."

Qui-Gon smiled. "Me too," he agreed. "But" – He paused here and looked suddenly shy – "it was probably one of the _nicest_ naps I've ever had."

Kila couldn't help but return the smile. Gods, she liked this man so much! "Me too," she returned then got up, trying not to notice the way his stretch emphasized the flat stomach and broad chest on which she'd lain so happily for … how long?

She looked down at her wrist chrono and almost swallowed her tongue. "Sithspit! We've been here nearly five hours – your Council meeting will be starting soon!"

The soft dreamy look vanished quickly from Qui-Gon's face and he rolled smoothly to his feet, pulling Kila up with him. _So much for the old man!_, she reflected. She couldn't have pulled off that maneuver at 20, never mind 73. "I'm sorry to cut our afternoon short," he said as they hurried out along the pathway.

"That's … all right," Kila gasped, pulling air into her burning lungs. It was an hour's walk to the nearest transport stop, but it seemed that Qui-Gon was trying to cover the distance in half the time. "Hey! Either slow down or let go of my hand!" she finally told the big man, yanking indignantly on his upper arm and gasping for breath. Coruscant was a little more oxygen-rich than Tatooine and Kila found that if she breathed too heavily she was in danger of hyperventilation.

Qui-Gon stopped abruptly and peered down at her in concern. "I'm sorry," he said gently. He sank to his knees and pulled her down with him, cradling her against his broad chest. "Try to slow your breathing," he said, stroking a large hand down her hair in a soothing motion. "Breathe in … hold. Breathe out. Breathe in … hold. Breathe out."

Between his low tones and the rhythmic stroking of her hair, Kila could feel her heart calm down and her lungs cease their frantic heaving. He touched her cheek gently. "Better?" he asked.

"Yes," Kila got out. "Sorry about that."

"That's all right – I struggled with the thinner air of Tatooine when I was there. I should have realized your lungs had a different capacity to mine."

Kila gave a low growl. "Qui-Gon; you might be a Jedi, but you're not infallible! No-one is!" She punched him gently in the shoulder to emphasize her words.

Qui-Gon grabbed her hand to prevent further assault on his person, and then pulled her to her feet. "You're right, of course."

"Of course!" Kila laughed and kept her hand tucked in his as they set off at a less brisk pace for the transport stop.

"I want to thank you for such a lovely day," Qui-Gon said. "It's been a long time since I felt such … contentment."

Kila flushed with pleasure at his words – he may not be infallible but he certainly had a knack for finding the right words. Contentment – pure and simple – had underscored the entire day for her. "My pleasure," she told him. "We can … do it again, if you'd like. But maybe stick a little closer to home if you have a Council meeting."

Qui-Gon squeezed her fingers gently. "I'd like that," he told her. "Very much."

"Oh," Kila got out, startled at the intensity in his simple words. "Well … me too."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

That would have been another perfect opportunity to kiss him, Kila mused crossly, sipping at her cooling _kevas_. But she hadn't taken the chance – again! _Was_ there something wrong with her that she was so afraid of what a simple kiss might do?

Kila growled low in her throat and finished off the _kevas_ in several inelegant gulps before deciding that a trip to the Temple was in order. There was plenty she hadn't read there – if she wasn't going to sleep then she may as well improve her mind.

For Kila, though usually became deed, so she hurried into the fresher and set it to sonic – she preferred water showers, but the sonics were quicker, more efficient. As she stood under the cleansing waves, she continued to castigate herself for her cowardice in not showing Qui-Gon how much she liked him, how much she cared …

Her back hit the fresher wall with a thump as her brain finally caught up with her heart.

How much she _loved_ him.

She was in love with Qui-Gon Jinn.

And she had no idea what to do about it.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

Qui-Gon sat quietly in his living room, concentrating on his breathing and feeling the Force flow through him.

His focus narrowed until he saw nothing but the flickering flame of the candle. He concentrated on it, finding his center – the _real_ Qui-Gon Jinn beneath the crude physical matter of his body.

Another flame danced into view. Smaller than his but no less alive – twirling and leaping, evading his own flame's attempts to consume it, make it a part of the greater whole. The small flame danced closer but retreated as the larger one made another attempt to claim it.

This fiery dance went on until finally the larger flame laid claim. The small flame flickered defiantly, once, twice … then died, leaving Qui-Gon with an unutterable sense of loss.

He opened his eyes to find that the candles had burned out, leaving him in the fading light of the day. "Force …," he muttered to himself, unfolding his long body and getting smoothly to his feet.

He'd lost most of the day in his meditation and was surprisingly unsettled … as well as hungry. He went into his fresher to wash up and saw in his mirror that he'd been crying. Not a few small tears, but a long outpouring judging by his red and swollen eyes.

That shocking sense of loss he'd experienced during his meditation had taken its toll in the real world. Yet he was at a loss. What had the Force meant by showing him something so … elemental yet profound?

His com chimed and he went to the terminal, glad of the interruption. "Qui-Gon Jinn," he said.

"Hi!" came back the bouncy tones of his newest friend. "I've got the evening off tonight and nary a plan. You want to join me? We can be bored together."

Qui-Gon smiled automatically, even though this was a voice-only com. "Well, as tempting as that sounds, how about we go for a walk through the Temple grounds? You said you'd like to spend more time here."

"That sounds good," the young woman said. "I'll bring some food, you bring the drinks."

"All right," Qui-Gon said, feeling his heart give a curiously adolescent bound at the prospect of spending the evening with the likeable and attractive young woman.

Wasn't he too old for these kinds of feelings?

"Good," Kila said now. "I'll get my things together and meet you at the Temple in around … a half an hour?"

"I'd prefer to collect you from your apartment," Qui-Gon said. "Capitol City is generally safe, but there _are_ undesirable characters around."

Kila chuckled. "What a gentleman!" she said. "You don't have to worry, though. Dex is coming to the Temple to deliver some things and he can drop me off along the way. No-one will mess with me when they see him."

Picturing the hulking Besalisk, Qui-Gon had to agree. "In that case, I'll see you in half an hour."

"Great. Now, go away – this com call isn't free, you know!"

Qui-Gon was about to respond when he heard the unmistakable static sound that indicated that Kila had ended the call. He chuckled and decided to step into the fresher and wash up before meeting Kila.

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Kila ended the com call then headed over to her closet with a small skip of glee. She didn't know what was happening between her and the handsome Jedi, but she wasn't going to waste time worrying about it either. If he just wanted to be friends, great. If he actually wanted more she would deal with that when the time came.

For tonight; she was going to spend the evening with a cultured, worldly and handsome man. And how many plain little ex-slaves could say _that_?

Humming an upbeat Nubian tune she'd heard at the diner that day, she examined the meager contents of her wardrobe ruefully. Really, it was a good job she _wasn't_ attempting to seduce Qui-Gon – her wardrobe would be completely inadequate.

She selected a long, simply cut brown dress that – had she known it – accentuated her full breasts and round hips, while adding luster to her pale skin and bright eyes. She pulled the dress on, adjusting the folds so that the hem trailed the floor per Coruscanti fashion. Then she brushed her hair out briskly, tying it to the nape of her neck with an ornate clip Dex had given her for her last nameday celebration.

She eyed her reflection then stuck her tongue out. This was as good as it was going to get.

On that note, she buzzed her employer – once again glad that she lived above the diner. "Dex; it's Kila."

"Hello, Sweetness!" the massive humanoid greeted her. On the day she'd baked her first Mandalorian Sweetcake, Dex had decided to christen her 'Sweetness'. "What are you doing up there on a beautiful evening like this?"

"I won't be here long," Kila laughed. "In fact, I'm heading up to the Jedi Temple and wondered if I could ride with you."

"Of course, Sweetness!" Dex replied. "Come down to the diner when you're ready."

"Thank you, Dex," Kila said gratefully and disconnected the com call.

She headed into the tiny kitchen and pulled several boxes out of the cooling unit. She didn't know what Qui-Gon liked to eat, so decided that the Togrutian nerf pie should not come – it was definitely an acquired taste.

Some _polan_ tart maybe … and the Throskian _dlini_ to go with it? Yes. And some Alderaani _kasafruit_. Perfect. Kila pulled the boxes out of the cooling unit, stuffed her feet into a comfortable pair of shoes, and then headed out of her little apartment.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

She paused when she saw Qui-Gon standing at the Temple gates. He'd eschewed the typical Jedi robe and tunic, opting instead for dark pants that hugged his tight rear end – of _course_ she'd noticed – and long powerful legs. With the dark pants, he wore a cream shirt that tucked into the pants and was open to below his collarbone, giving him an almost piratical look.

By the Sith hells, but the man was sexy! Was she drooling?

"Go on, girl," Dex said, giving her a nudge. "Have a good time."

"Ahh …" Kila managed to roll in her tongue to form words. "Thanks, Dex."

She made her way over to the handsome Jedi, all of a sudden inexplicably nervous. Yes, she'd realized before that the man was good looking but somehow he'd become dangerous by leaving his Jedi trappings behind.

Then she saw the hilt of his lightsaber was and was absurdly reassured by that piece of normality. Qui-Gon Jinn without his saber … that would be like Jabba the Hutt without a nubile slave.

"Come on, brat – don't stand there gathering dust!" he called now.

And just like that, things were back to normal. "Why so impatient, old man?" she sniped back, making her way over to him.

He grinned at that then took her hand and led her into the gardens. "Good to see you, too," he said. "I see you brought food."

"I said I would," Kila replied, her eyes going to the large bag on his shoulder. "What did you bring to drink?"

"I never indulge in alcohol and I wasn't sure if you did, so I brought ruby bliels. A young … friend of mine introduced me to them many years ago when I was on Tatooine."

"I lived on Tatooine for a long time," Kila said. "About the one good memory I have of that place is drinking ruby bliels."

An undeniably sad look flittered over Qui-Gon's face and Kila fought the urge to hug him, not sure how well the gesture would be received; after all, they'd only met a few days ago. Instead she squeezed his hand, which still held hers captive.

He returned the squeeze and smiled down at her. "Well, where shall we go first?" he asked.

"I don't mind," Kila said. "It's a lovely evening – let's just wander and enjoy it."

"Agreed," Qui-Gon said with a slightly larger smile. He seemed determined to put his sorrow behind him for the evening.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon blinked as a mop of sandy hair, blue eyes and a snub nose appeared in his mind. _Anakin, my boy_, he reflected sadly, _how different would things be had you lived?_

Then he made a stalwart effort to rein in his sadness and looked down at Kila, who was walking quietly beside him, her small hand now tucked through the crook of his arm. She really was looking lovely this evening, he decided. The colorful fabric brought her skin to glowing life while the full beautiful curves were shown to their best advantage. There was nothing cheap or tawdry about the dress – it was undeniably simple, yet sensual, the soft fabric begging for the caress of a lover's hands. "You look lovely tonight, Kila," he told her softly.

"Well, I wouldn't go _that_ far but thank you," Kila denied, sounding uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"You're welcome," Qui-Gon replied, "and I'm telling you the truth. That dress becomes you – it's very flattering."

"Ahh …" Kila pulled her hand away and Qui-Gon found himself regretting the loss of her warmth. She moved over to one of the fountains and dabbled her fingers into the clear water, giggling when a curious fish nibbled at her, evidently thinking she was food. "Silly fish," she scolded teasingly then turned back to Qui-Gon. "So … you've been to Tatooine?" she said.

"Yes; about thirteen years ago," Qui-Gon said, staring pensively into the water. "It was an unscheduled stopover – our flyer needed parts so we ended up in a little town called Mos Espa."

"I've heard of it, but I never got there," Kila said. "I lived in Anchorhead – which was quite a way away if you didn't have transport." She sighed and looked away, making Qui-Gon wonder just what bad memories she held of her life on Tatooine.

But, he reminded himself, they'd only known each other seven or eight days. It was far too early in their fledgling relationship to ask such personal questions.

Another sigh came from the young woman then she visibly shook off her dark thoughts and gave Qui-Gon a bright smile. "But that's not what tonight's about!" she declared. "Tonight is about friendship and the future."

Qui-Gon found himself smiling back at her, unable to resist the bright eyes, beaming smile and the dimple that lodged near her mouth as she smiled. "Agreed," he said, pleased beyond measure when her small hand slipped back into his – like it belonged there.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila slid her hand back into Qui-Gon's large one, annoyed with herself for her skittish adolescent reaction to his compliment. He wasn't some lout offering meaningless flattery simply to get her into bed – he was better than that. If he said that she looked lovely then he truly believed that.

Not that she had much experience with such compliments. All right; none. Obi-Wan was by turns both older and younger brother while Dex was a father figure and bouncer rolled into one. The other men she knew were the regulars at Dex's, and flirting banter was the norm. It didn't mean anything – was simply a means of passing the time.

She allowed her gaze to roam over Qui-Gon's tall powerful frame, the broad shoulders, slim hips, the squeezable rear end … "I'm sorry for not returning the compliment earlier," she said, pulling her thoughts out of the sewer. "You look very nice too – very dashing."

It was hard to tell in the dusk, but she could have sworn Qui-Gon blushed. "Ahh … thank you," he said.

Then, just to complete her image of him as dashing and courtly, he lifted up her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers.

Kila shivered at the sweet old-fashioned caress, and then manufactured a giggle to cover up her childish reaction. "Your beard tickles, old man!"

Qui-Gon chuckled then leaned down and scrubbed his beard over her cheek, causing her to squeal and pull away. "Brat," he shot back, a devilish gleam entering his usually serious mien and causing his eyes to dance.

"Thank you," Kila said demurely. She raised her hand to her cheek. "Gods help you if you've left me with whisker burn, Qui-Gon Jinn!"

"The Force is my ally, and a powerful ally it is," Qui-Gon intoned, sounding eerily like Yoda in that instant.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

"You sounded like Yoda there for a minute," Kila commented.

Qui-Gon smiled down at her, noticing a few whisker burns on the soft pale skin of her cheek. "He was my Master when I was a Padawan," he told Kila, unable to _not_ wonder what it would feel like to mark other parts of that pale flesh with his whiskers, his lips …

"Goodness," Kila said in awe. "I never would have thought Yoda was _that_ old."

And, just like that, the odd sexual tension he felt fled. "You are such an obnoxious brat," he observed.

Kila laughed. "I do try," she said. She stretched up and pressed a small kiss to his cheek then shivered suddenly. "Anyway, shall we keep walking? It's a bit chilly to just stand here."

"Agreed," Qui-Gon said. He let go of her hand and used his now free arm to wrap around Kila's shoulders, pulling her closer to his side. "Better?" he asked.

"Mmm," Kila murmured, slipping her arm around his waist and cuddling into him.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

Hand in hand once more, Qui-Gon and Kila strolled along the busy nighttime streets of Capitol City.

Most of the intoxicated beings had the presence of mind to give the large man a wide berth – especially when they saw the lightsaber – but one particularly persistent human had required further persuasion.

Kila had been shocked by the speed with which Qui-Gon had relieved the creature of one of its grabby appendages. "That was … fast," she said, watching the human disappear into the crowd, cradling the cauterized stump that remained. "How did you know he was going to pull that blaster?"

Qui-Gon clasped her hand gently in his as they walked along. He was such a paradox – one minute tender and caring, the next pure warrior. "How much do you know of the Force?" he said.

Kila shrugged. "Not much," she said. "It's a kind of life force – an energy field that's supposed to bind all living beings together. Some people are more attuned to the Force than others and they tend to become Jedi … or Sith."

"Well, there are two main aspects to the Force – the Living Force and the Unifying Force. Those with an affinity for the Unifying Force can see events before they occur – can make accurate predictions. I actually have more affinity with the Living Force – but all Jedi seek a balance. We should not sacrifice the present for a future that may never happen, but neither should we rely solely on our feelings, our instincts."

"Sounds … complicated," Kila said.

"It is difficult," Qui-Gon said. "The Force is at once both master and servant and a demanding master it can be. Not everyone strong in the Force becomes a Jedi, although I believe it has become easier since the rule on attachments was relaxed. Several Jedi have bonded – others have tracked down their families and made connections."

"What about you?" Kila asked. "I know you're not married, but what about parents, siblings?"

"I was orphaned as a baby and was placed in the care of a young Jedi named Dooku," Qui-Gon said, reflecting sadly on how his old friend had turned to darkness – had fallen prey to the manipulations of Sidious. "When we reached Coruscant, I was found to be strong in the Force and was brought up in the Temple. My initial bond with Dooku was soon supplanted by the training bond I developed with Master Yoda, although Dooku and I remained friends."

Kila was silent and Qui-Gon guessed that she was thinking about her own childhood. From what little she'd told him and reading between the lines, he realized that she'd been abandoned by her mother – a flesh worker hooked on death sticks – and had been forced to serve various taskmasters, the last one being Gardulla the Hutt.

How she'd remained so human after the depredations of Hutt society he would never understand. Not only had she hung onto her humanity, but she was a warm giving person with a wicked sense of humor and such joy in the little things. She had experienced terrible things, but she was no victim. He admired her more than he could articulate.

"Hello! Are you still with me?"

Kila snapped her fingers in front of his eyes and he blinked back to the present. "Sorry; just thinking," he said. "As you keep reminding me, I _am_ an old man – and old men tend to drift off."

"You're not _that_ old," Kila objected. "There are men in their 20s that don't look as good as you!" Then she coughed quickly – Qui-Gon couldn't see her skin changing color, but _could_ feel her embarrassment burning brightly. "Besides, I'm hardly an infant myself – I'll be 34 in a few months."

"Hmmm," Qui-Gon mused, feeling that little imp of mischief take possession of him once more. "Perhaps I should start calling you 'old woman'."

A gasp indicated that his shot had hit the mark. "You do that and the Jedi Order will find itself short one Master!"

"I tremble," Qui-Gon deadpanned.

A snort of laughter reached his ears. "I take back what I said before. You're _not_ a gentleman – you're a horrible beast."

Now Qui-Gon laughed. Again. He couldn't recall a time when he'd laughed so much prior to making this young woman's acquaintance. "Grrr," he rumbled.

People were looking at him and Kila like they were both running mad, but he didn't care. He _liked_ the playful side that Kila inspired in him. It made him feel … young again. "You're a wonderful girl," he told her.

"You're not so bad yourself, Master Qui-Gon Jinn," Kila replied.

A noisy group of students from the local university spilled out of a nearby tavern, inadvertently pushing Kila into Qui-Gon. He wrapped his arms around her almost reflexively, seeking to protect her from the crush.

Her own arms came upward, her hands fluttering near his chest. "Uh … you can let me go now," she said, sounding a little breathless.

Not surprising, really. Qui-Gon was no lightweight and he had her crushed up against him. He released her and stepped backward, intensely aware of his body's reaction to being pressed up against her lush curves. "I'm sorry," he told her gently, seeing by her wide eyes and short breath that he'd made her uneasy.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila pushed back her hair with trembling hands, surprised at how nervous the close contact had made her. Sithspit; she wasn't some little adolescent with a crush on the boy next door! She was a mature woman, for kriff's sake!

A mature woman with as much romantic experience as an adolescent, she reminded herself, cursing herself once again. She was near her 34th nameday, he'd never even mentioned the word sex, but she was afraid nonetheless.

Afraid that she'd left it all too late. That she was fat and ugly and that no-one would ever want her. Yet she was also afraid that Qui-Gon _did_ want her. She might be inexperienced but she'd felt the very physical evidence of his interest before he'd stepped away.

"Are you all right, Kila?" Qui-Gon asked softly, much like he was gentling a skittish dewback.

"Ahh, yes," Kila said. They walked the last half-hour in silence and Kila paused uneasily outside the door to her apartment. "I'm really sorry," she said in frustration. "We were having a good time and then I spoiled it."

"You didn't spoil anything," Qui-Gon said firmly. "I apologize for making you uncomfortable. I have to be honest – I _would_ like to know you better, not just as a friend, but if you don't want that, I will be happy with your friendship."

"Oh." Kila gulped then looked up at the handsome man, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "I … I … I think I'd like more than friendship too," she admitted. "Would you like to come in for a bit? There's something you need to know before this goes any further."

"Yes, thank you," Qui-Gon said.

Kila opened the door and preceded her … would-be lover into the apartment, switching on the luminaters in the living room. "Would you like a drink, something to eat?"

"A glass of water will do fine, thank you," Qui-Gon said.

He settled onto the settee, his long legs stretched out in front of him, examining the tiny apartment with interest. _Strange_, Kila thought, _he looks RIGHT sitting there_. She got him his water then sat down next to him, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her.

"May I?" Qui-Gon asked.

"May you … what?"

He touched the clasp holding back her hair. Kila nodded and he removed the clasp, combing his long fingers gently through the curling strands. "You have beautiful hair," he commented. "You should leave it loose more often."

"Not exactly practical for work," Kila said, enjoying the feel of his fingers. "I can't show up at work looking like a baby Wookiee. Dex is a good boss, but that would be pushing him too far."

"I suppose," Qui-Gon said, not stopping his combing action, the motion lulling her into sleep.

She yawned and leaned into him, resting her cheek on his upper arm. "Don't make me fall asleep," she scolded him. "I … need to tell you something."

Qui-Gon removed his fingers from her hair and stroked her cheek. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad," he told her.

"No, it's not _bad_," Kila said. "It's just … you need to know." She took a deep breath. "I'm attracted to you too and I'd also like to explore it further, but …" She sucked in another deep breath. "Our first kiss will also be … my _first_ kiss."

She closed her eyes, waiting for his reaction. While she knew that the kind-hearted Jedi would never laugh at her confession, she also didn't want him feeling sorry for her.

"Is that it?"

Qui-Gon sounded bemused and her eyes shot open. "What?"

"This is your big shameful secret – the fact that you're inexperienced?" He smiled down at her, hugging her closer. "I'm long past the age where I need to sow my oats, Kila – we can go as slow as you need. I want this relationship to be a good one for both of us."

"All right," Kila said faintly, relieved beyond measure that he didn't seem to think any less of her. "So … what now?"

"I'm an old-fashioned man in many respects, Kila," Qui-Gon told her. "I believe in romance and a slow sweet courtship. Anyone can get between the sheets, but you deserve better."

Kila nodded her head. "A courtship sounds nice," she replied.

A strange looked flashed over his face and he sighed. "I have to confess, love – for a long time, I did limit myself to purely physical encounters but I stopped a few years ago when I realized I wanted more."

Kila smiled, not shocked or dismayed by what he'd told her and enjoying the term of endearment. "So that's why you're so good at flirting," she teased lightly. "I'm glad you told me, but you have nothing to be ashamed of if you were honest with these women."

"I was," Qui-Gon said, sounding relieved.

"Well, that's good enough for me," Kila said.

"Thank you," Qui-Gon said. "And now I'll leave you to get some rest," he added, getting up and putting his empty glass on the table.

Kila accompanied him to the door. "Well … good night, Qui-Gon," she said.

Qui-Gon put out a hand and stroked her cheek gently before placing an equally gentle kiss on her forehead. "Good night, Kila," he said, and then strode away down the short hallway. He turned just before going down the stairs and gave Kila a wave.

Kila returned the wave then went back into the apartment, hugging herself tightly. "Well, well, Kila …," she murmured, "this is either going to be a horrible mistake or the best thing that's ever happened to you."

She gave a mighty yawn and closed the apartment door. It was getting late and she had the breakfast to noonmeal shift tomorrow – time to go to bed.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon walked along the corridors of the Temple, thinking about Kila, her bright smile, beautiful hair, soft skin …

He was amazed that some lucky man hadn't seen her true beauty, experienced her love and passion, filled her home and heart with love, babies. He shook his head. Those men were fools, he decided now, because the man to whom Kila gave her whole warm heart would be incredibly blessed.

Qui-Gon wanted to be that man. He wanted to talk with her, walk with her, give her love and babies. And yet again, he found himself wishing he were younger. Strong, fit and healthy as he was, he was still mortal – would have at most another thirty or so years.

"Master; you're broadcasting."

Obi-Wan appeared in Qui-Gon's line of vision looking rumpled and sleepy.

"I apologize, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon reined in his thoughts. "And you are no longer my Padawan. I have a name – you should use it."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Habit, I'm afraid." He opened the door to his apartment. "Would you like to talk about her?"

"Her?" Qui-Gon tried to look blank.

"Kila," Obi-Wan said bluntly. "I know that you love her – anyone who's ever been within scorching range of you when you're near her knows that."

Qui-Gon stared at his former pupil, seeing the peace that his love for Padmé Amidala had wrought in him. "You're a good friend, Obi-Wan," he said, following the younger man into his apartment.

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"So?" Obi-Wan asked as his friend and former mentor settled down opposite him.

"I …" Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "I've offered a courtship to Kila and she has accepted. We're going to take it slowly, though."

Obi-Wan nodded his head, glad that Kila had opened her heart to someone. She needed love more than any being he had ever met, but her shyness and inexperience made her vulnerable. Qui-Gon was one of the few men Obi-Wan could trust to not crush her spirit. "So, what's the problem?"

"It seems stupid, I know, but I found myself thinking about the disparity of our ages – she's five years younger than you, Obi-Wan. And when I'm an old man of 90, she'll only just be in her 50s."

Obi-Wan shook his head. Never had he heard his former Master sound so insecure. Love was certainly a mysterious thing. "Kila's a mature woman," he said, "not some adolescent with a crush to be humored. Inexperience and naïveté aren't synonymous. If she wishes to be courted by you, you should respect her judgment."

Qui-Gon nodded and smiled. "You've become very wise, my friend," he said. "You're perfectly right, of course." He got up and stretched. "Well, I've disturbed your sleep enough. I'll let you go …"

"Obi; come back to bed," a sleepy, infinitely female, voice entreated.

Senator Padmé Amidala stepped into the living room wearing what looked like one of Obi-Wan's shirts and nothing else. Thankfully, her petite stature meant that the shirt covered her more than adequately. Whilst a passionate and imaginative lover, Padmé was no exhibitionist.

"Oh!" the young Nubian Senator gasped, her hand flying to her mouth and cheeks turning a deep crimson. "I'm sorry, Qui-Gon!" she said now.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Qui-Gon said gently, trying to stem her mortification. Beside him, Obi-Wan showed no such compunction and snickered softly. "I must go now, Padmé; it was good to see you again."

"You too," Padmé replied, her blush fading somewhat. She glared at her still-snickering betrothed then laughed herself. "No-one could ever say I didn't know how to make an entrance!" she added.

Obi-Wan shook his head with a smile. Force; he loved this woman. "Go back to bed, Padmé," he said softly. "I'll be there soon."

"All right," Padmé replied. "Good night, Qui-Gon," she added before beating a hasty retreat.

Obi-Wan smiled as the still flustered woman hurried away, and then turned back to Qui-Gon. "You could have this, too," he told the older man.

"I hope so," Qui-Gon replied simply. "I very much hope so."


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

Kila jerked out of her happy little recollection of Qui-Gon stroking her cheek and kissing her forehead when she realized that Dex was trying to get her attention. And probably for a while too, if the look on his face was any indication. "What?" she said, going red at the knowing look on her employer's face.

"Table Eight needs their order takin'," the big man said gruffly.

"Oh! Yes; sorry," Kila said.

Dex caught her hand as she went past. "I'm happy for you, Sweetness, but tell Master Jinn from me that Jedi or not, he'll treat you right or else!"

"Master Jinn?" Kila tried for a blank ignorance.

Dex just guffawed. "I wasn't born yesterday, Sweetness – I know you've been spendin' time with him and that soppy look on your face can only mean things are goin' well."

Kila blushed again. "It _is_ going well, but it's early days yet and I don't want to tempt fate."

"Oh, tempt fate, Sweetness! Life's a lottery. Good things happen, bad things happen, so enjoy the good things while they last."

Kila stared at the man who'd been like a father to her the past five years. "When did you become so smart?"

"I've always been smart," Dex said, and then snapped a towel at her behind. "Now, get!"

Kila giggled and headed over to Table 8, which was occupied by Obi-Wan and Padmé Amidala. Kila saw the glint of a Coruscanti pledge bracelet on the Senator's wrist and was glad that Obi-Wan had taken her advice. "Hello, Obi-Wan; Senator Amidala."

"Good morning," Obi-Wan said. "Padmé; this is Kila Marik."

Padmé smiled at Kila. "Ah; so you're Obi-Wan's enabler?"

"Pardon me?"

"We all blame you for my caf addiction," Obi-Wan explained with a droll wink.

"Cheek," Kila snorted. "I just introduced you to it. You're the wise and powerful Jedi who decided to make it a habit!"

Padmé chuckled at that, ignoring the hurt look her betrothed sent her. "Well, it's nice to finally meet you, Kila – I've heard a lot about you the last few years."

Kila paused in the act of pulling out her pad, not sure how to take that remark. Did Padmé see her as some kind of rival for Obi-Wan's affections? She could see that Obi-Wan was good-looking, with his fair hair, bright eyes and compact slim yet muscular body, but he'd been like a brother to her all these years – nothing more.

"Well … whatever he told you can't have been too horrific if you're happy to meet me," Kila managed to say, wondering why Padmé was acting as if they'd never met. "Anyway; I've already been pulled up once for loitering, so what can I get you?"

"Ah yes; time flies when you're daydreaming about a former Master of mine who shall remain nameless, doesn't it?" Obi-Wan teased.

"Don't be such a brat," Kila grumbled, feeling her face and neck turn scarlet. "So … what can I get you, Senator?" she added, turning her back deliberately on her infuriating friend.

"Ahh … a caf, please," the Senator murmured then slapped Obi-Wan lightly when he chortled. "What can I say? I blame the palace at Theed for _my_ addiction!"

Kila smiled at the mild joke then turned her attention back to the snickering Obi-Wan. "And what about you, your Royal Brattiness?"

Obi-Wan gave _her_ the injured look now, but Padmé's inelegant snort of laughter made him grin. "All right, you two," she said. "I feel like I'm refereeing a fight between Ryoo and Pooja." She looked at Kila and smiled. "My nieces," she explained.

"Well, as much fun as this is, brother dear, I have work to do," Kila said lightly. "Two cups of caf and what would you like to eat?"

Obi-Wan looked at Kila hopefully. "Is that your Mandalorian Sweetcake I smell?"

Kila gave a small grin – it wasn't fair that a man in his late 30s could look so boyish. "It is," she replied. "I made a batch this morning."

"Great; I'll have some of that, then." Obi-Wan turned to his betrothed. "Padmé?"

"Sounds good to me," Padmé said. "I've been craving something sweet all day."

"Two cups of caf and two slices of Sweetcake coming right up," Kila said. "Sorry, but it's pretty mad in here today …"

"That's fine," Padmé said. "If you're not busy tonight, though, would you like to come over for dinner? You must get sick of cooking all the time."

"How would _you_ know?" Obi-Wan laughed. "The only time you set foot in the kitchen is to bat those big brown eyes at me for a cup of caf."

"See how well I ignore him?" Padmé asked of the air. "So … will you come? His Royal Brattiness has a meeting tonight and I thought it might be nice to have a girl talk."

"I … I'd like that," Kila said, startled. Although Padmé was at least five years her junior, she was more experienced in romance. It would be nice to talk about her love – yes, love – for Qui-Gon to someone who wouldn't judge her.

"Good! Well, here's my address." Padmé slipped Kila a small datapad. "And directions. I'll see you at about seven?"

"All right," Kila said a little shyly.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila went through her meager wardrobe for the fifth time in an hour. Nothing she had was anywhere near good enough for dinner with a Senator and former Queen! Oh Gods, this was a bad idea …

Suddenly her com chimed and she pressed the button, very glad that she didn't have vid capabilities, dressed as she was in only a towel. "Hello?"

"Kila; it's Qui-Gon here. I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me tomorrow night. We can take a picnic and spend the evening at Erith."

"Well, hello to you, too," Kila snipped back.

A cough greeted her words. "Ah, sorry," Qui-Gon replied, sounding abashed. "I didn't mean to rush you."

"That's all right," Kila said, tightening the towel around herself subconsciously. "And I'd love to go to Erith again. I just hope I won't fall asleep on you this time, though."

"Oh, I didn't mind at all," Qui-Gon said with a small laugh. "You're very nice to hold."

"Umm … thank you," Kila said, feeling her face heat up. "So … what time tomorrow?"

"About four? After you finish work?"

"Make it half-past," Kila replied. "I'll need more than a half an hour to make myself presentable."

A sigh came from Qui-Gon's end of the com. "As you wish," he said, "but you always look nice as far as I'm concerned."

Kila chuckled – maybe it was true that love was blind. "You wouldn't say that if you could see me now!" she exclaimed. "Hair dripping down my back, no cosmetics and nothing on but a towel!"

A strangled sound came from Qui-Gon and Kila realized she'd painted quite a picture for him. "Too much information?" she asked weakly.

"Ah …" – the man coughed. "Let's just say that my determination to give you a nice slow courtship has taken a severe battering."

"Oh," Kila said lamely, simultaneously pleased and unnerved by the sudden huskiness in the big Jedi's voice. Whilst she'd admitted out loud her attraction to him – and her love for him to herself – she wasn't ready for anything intimate. Kriff, they hadn't even _kissed_ yet! "I'm sorry, Qui-Gon," she said, her heart pounding and panic scrabbling up her throat. "I can't meet you tomorrow night. I …"

"Kila; I'd never push you into something you're not ready for," Qui-Gon said. "You do believe that, don't you?"

She _wanted_ to, but there was that little niggle of fear. What if she didn't have the strength to push him away? What if she wasn't good enough? Khest; she was 33 years old and had never even kissed a man. What could she possibly know about satisfying a handsome sensual man like Qui-Gon Jinn?

No. Better to get out now before things went too far. "I can't meet you tomorrow," she said quietly, feeling tears sting her eyes. "In fact, I think we should stop … whatever this is. I … I can't be … what you want."

"Kila …" The man heaved another sigh. "Where has all this self-doubt come from? You're much more than you think."

"No. I'm not. I'm a plain little ex-slave and you're a Jedi Master," Kila said, biting back a sob at his pained tone. "It could never work. I'm sorry, Qui-Gon."

And, with that, she closed down the com connection as the tears began to flow in earnest. Ending something that had barely had the chance to begin – that was very sad.

She curled up on her bed, hugging her pillow as she anointed it with tears. She felt horrible for Qui-Gon but it was better that it happened now rather than months down the line.

She sniffed and gulped back her tears, and then levered herself off the bed to wash away her tears. _You made the right decision_, she told herself firmly, splashing cold water onto her face. So, why couldn't she convince her silly heart of that?

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Padmé Amidala checked the table one more time then looked up at the wall chrono. 7:15 … Kila was late. Maybe she was having problems with security.

The door chime rang and Dormé, one of her attendants, moved over to the door and pulled it open.

"Uhm … Kila Marik. I'm here to see the Senator."

Padmé heard the uncertainty in the older woman's voice and went to the door, displacing her attendant and occasional decoy. "Come in, Kila – I was worried you weren't going to show up."

Kila smiled slightly – a shadow of the lovely beams Padmé had witnessed that morning at the diner. "Sorry about that," she said. "I got lost in this rancor warren Capitol City calls a Senatorial residence."

A _what_ kind of warren? Padmé's query was forestalled when she saw the box in her guest's hands and smelled … "Is that what I think it is?" she asked, pulling her guest fully into the apartment.

"Mandalorian Sweetcake," Kila confirmed. "I saw how much you enjoyed it, and gathered from what Obi-Wan said that you don't cook much. So …"

Dormé took the box and Kila's cloak and disappeared silently with both.

"Well, I'm glad you came – with or without the sweetcake," Padmé said, hoping to put her obviously nervous guest at ease. Obi-Wan had mentioned that Kila could be quite shy when out of her comfort zone, but Padmé wanted to get to know the woman who was like a sister to the man she loved.

Also, Kila too was involved with a Jedi Master – it was nice to have someone who would understand.

Padmé led her guest to a comfortable settee, admiring the soft cinnamon-colored dress she wore. "I like your dress," she said lightly. "I'd look dreadful in that color – I'm too brown."

Kila shook her head. "But … you're beautiful. I bet you'd look good in anything!" she said.

"Anything but brown," Padmé said, recalling the last time she'd worn brown – she'd blended in with the ground very nicely until she'd lightened her hair.

Kila gave a short laugh and fidgeted with the neckline of her gown.

Padmé had been a politician for half her life – she knew what to say, when to say it, and to whom to say it. Yet she was oddly stymied around Kila. She knew Kila was five years older than herself, but she seemed so much younger.

"You've no need to be nervous," she said directly but nicely. "If it makes it easier, don't think of me as Senator Amidala for the Chommell Sector. Just think of me as His Royal Brattiness' long-suffering betrothed."

Kila giggled at that and stopped fiddling with her clothing. "All right, then," she said.

"And in the spirit of the evening; you're Kila, I'm Padmé. We'll eat too much, listen to music and compares notes on the men in our life. It's been a long time since I've had a girlfriend." She really missed Obi's sister, who had moved to Bespin with her son more than a year ago upon her remarriage.

Kila smiled at that. "I've never had a girlfriend but I can try," she said.

"Do or do not. There is no try," Padmé quoted.

"Does everyone end up talking like Yoda if they spend enough time with Jedi?" Kila laughed. "You sounded just like him there!"

Padmé laughed also. "I got it from Obi, who got it from Qui-Gon, who got it from Yoda himself. You keep spending time with Qui-Gon; it'll happen to you too!"

To Padmé's dismay, Kila's eyes shone and a tear fell down her cheek. "That's … not likely," the older girl said. "Qui-Gon and I … we're not together like that."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Padmé said. She hadn't seen Kila and Qui-Gon together, but she'd known Qui-Gon a long time – the last time she'd seen him this happy was on Tatooine with little Ani and his mother, Shmi.

Kila gave a shrug. "Don't be – it's for the best," she said firmly. She whisked away the tear, but still looked a little forlorn. "Anyway, I didn't come here to talk about my non-existent love life," she added. "Can we change the subject?"

"Of course," Padmé said in resignation. It was far too soon in their new friendship to probe why Kila was so determined to stick with a decision that made her miserable.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

Three hours and three bottles of Arrythrian moonwine later, neither woman was feeling quite so inhibited. They chatted and laughed, Padmé telling stories of her youth and many encounters with Obi-Wan, with Kila adding some of her _own_ stories about the Knight.

Padmé wasn't so tipsy that she couldn't discern that Kila mentioned little to nothing of her own childhood. Nor that she never talked about any adolescent crushes. She knew that Kila had grown up on Tatooine and had moved to Coruscant five years earlier – the years in between were a complete mystery.

Kila had said that she'd never had a girlfriend – maybe she'd never had _any_ kind of friend until she came to Coruscant. Life on Tatooine was hard enough for those with family – look at Shmi and Ani – but Kila had no family.

"So … Blame it on the moonwine if you like, but what went wrong with you and Qui-Gon?" Padmé asked. "He seemed to really care for you."

Kila's already pink cheeks turned a brighter pink. "We're too different," she said. "It'd never work."

"Opposites attract," Padmé said, leaning over and topping up the wine with an unsteady hand. "Look at me and Obi – a politician and a Jedi Master."

"Opposites don't always complement each other," Kila said, not even stumbling over her syllables. "Sometimes people are _too_ different. He's handsome, powerful, cultured … I'm just a little ignoramus who's dragged herself up the best she can."

"Phoo!" Padmé said derisively. "It doesn't matter where you've come from. You're a pretty girl …"

Kila snorted loudly. "Maybe you should get your eyesight checked!" she interrupted.

"S'true." Padmé waved a wobbly little hand. "You aren't beautiful, but you have a nice face and a shape that men like. No matter what the magazines say, most men _like_ women with curves."

Kila gulped down her wine then peered at Padmé through a wine-induced haze. "I think you're drunk," she said then giggled.

Padmé returned the giggle. "Oh, and you're not? Anyway, you like Qui-Gon, he likes you …" She peered at her friend. "You think you're not good enough for him – isn't he old enough to decide that for himself?"

"Yes, but …," Kila murmured then sighed. "Oh, you wouldn't understand!"

"Try me," Padmé commanded, taking another slice of the sweetcake.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila stared blearily at her newest friend. Maybe she _would_ understand or at least accept. "How old were you when you kissed your first boy?" she asked.

Padmé giggled again. "13," she said. "You?"

Kila sighed. "I haven't," she said. "I wouldn't even know where to begin!"

"You're making it more difficult than it is," Padmé said. "Qui-Gon's not some grabby adolescent who'd maul you. His lips look nice and I bet he knows how to use them."

Kila nearly got wine through her nose. Coughing and choking, she pounded her chest and stared at Padmé. "What about Obi-Wan?"

Padmé smiled. "I love Obi-Wan – with a passion that I've never felt before – but I can see what you see in Qui-Gon. He's too old for me, but I did have a tiny crush on him when I first met him. So big and with that long hair, he looks like some noble warrior from ancient times."

She thumped her wineglass down and peered at the wall chrono. "You know; the Council meeting will finish soon. I think you should go and claim your man!"

"I don't _have_ a man, Padmé," Kila reminded her friend wearily.

"Yes, you do," Padmé said. "You just haven't claimed him yet. Grab that big Jedi and tell him you're an idiot – then take it from there."

It was a tempting notion, Kila thought with a giggle, but … "What if he rejects me?"

"He won't," Padmé said. "He's not the idiot, you are." She reached over and clasped Kila's hand suddenly. "Kila; he's a good man and he deserves to be happy. You deserve to be happy. You make each other happy, so you deserve each other." Then she laughed. "Considering how much wine I've had, that was actually quite profound!"

Kila giggled at the look on her friend's face. "So … you said something about going and claiming my man. I'm going to do it!"

Padmé whooped. "Good for you!"

Kila stood up, wavered and plumped back down. "_After_ the room stops spinning."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon sat down and closed his eyes, seeking guidance from the Force. He was at a loss to explain Kila's sudden change of mind – and a little hurt to realize she didn't trust him. What was any kind of relationship – romantic or not – without trust?

He'd tried twice already to achieve clarity through meditation. He'd always been stronger in the Living Force, less inclined toward meditation, and this lack of practice stymied him now.

When he closed his eyes, his mind took him back to that beautiful moment in the gardens at Erith. He'd awoken to find Kila in his arms, slumbering sweetly with her head on his chest. He hadn't wished to awaken her so had closed his eyes once more.

Only a few minutes later, he'd felt her small fingers caress his cheekbones, push back his hair, skim across his lips. He'd become aware of the fact that she wished to kiss him, but he didn't want to be a passive recipient. He wanted to hold her, taste her, caress her.

So he feigned awakening – she'd shot backward, unnerved, and the moment had been lost.

If he'd known then that that would have been her first kiss he would have continued to feign sleep – let her control the moment. But hindsight is always perfect.

His eyes opened and he sighed – he was evidently _not_ going to be able to meditate tonight. He trusted the Force, served it, was served by it – there had to be a reason why he couldn't reach it tonight.

A knock on the door was a welcome interruption – Qui-Gon could scarcely believe that a slip of a woman could have him so off-kilter – and he went over to the door and opened it. "Master Yoda," he greeted.

The ancient Jedi hobbled in, his large eyes skewering in on Qui-Gon. "Troubled you are, my young friend."

It was a statement, not a question. Qui-Gon sighed again and looked at his mentor, his friend. "Yes," he said simply – there was little point in denying it.

"Matters of the heart, the most complex thing they can be, yet the most simple. _If_ … overthink them you do not." Yoda speared Qui-Gon with another wise look. "A balance between your heart and your mind you must seek."

Qui-Gon shook his head slightly. "I know what I want, Master Yoda, but Kila … Something has scared her away."

"Kila … an interesting girl she is. Wise yet childlike, carefree yet burdened. Patience and tenderness her heart will respond to. Loves you she does – in her heart. The means of demonstrating that love … trouble her they do."

"I know," Qui-Gon said. "And I told her I wanted to take it slowly, but …" He shoved his hands through his hair. "I was talking to her via com earlier. She blurted out that she was wearing very little and I reacted like a hormone-laden adolescent."

"Understand I do," Yoda replied. "Let this miscommunication threaten your relationship you should not. Meet her tomorrow at her workplace you should – less intimate that is than her home, less cornered she will feel. Realize she will that mistakes you both made and forgive each other you will."

"You make it sound easy," Qui-Gon said.

"Easy it is," Yoda said, smacking Qui-Gon's knee with his gimer stick – the little Jedi was a menace with that thing. "Make it complicated you and Kila do." A smile crossed the ancient Jedi's face. "Like her I do. A good pair you make. A fine Jedi Knight she would be if stronger she were in the Force."

Qui-Gon nodded his head, in full agreement with Yoda's words. Kila was wise, pure of heart, strong … He'd be an idiot to let her go because of her fears. "You're right, of course, Master Yoda," he admitted. "I'll go and see her tomorrow – we can work this out."

"Good, good," the older Jedi approved. Then a mischievous grin split his wrinkled features. "Actually, necessary that will not be." The Jedi gestured and the door opened to reveal Kila poised as if to press the chime.

"Master Yoda!" she exclaimed, her cheeks pink and her eyes bright. "I … ah … Never mind – I'll come back later."

"Leave you will not, young lady," Yoda said, tapping her leg with his gimer stick. "Leave I will – and talk this out you younglings must." He patted Kila's leg like an elderly affectionate parent. "Speak with you I will before your talk with Qui-Gon."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila felt the alcohol-fueled courage wane as she looked down at the little Jedi Master. She got down on the floor and looked at the Master curiously. "What is it?"

"To interfere my style is not," Yoda said, "but Qui-Gon my last Padawan was. Special to me he is …"

"He's special to me too," Kila admitted with a blush.

"Then make you miserable this should not. Special love is – a gift of the Force. Squandered or taken lightly it should not be." Yoda patted her hand. "Make mistakes you both will – inevitable that is. But help you your love will."

"Love?" Kila blurted out. She was definitely in love with Qui-Gon but …

"Loves you he does," Yoda told her. He gazed at her. "Surprises you this does? Unworthy believe you?"

The ancient Jedi was remarkably perceptive if not a little interrogative. Kila fiddled with her neckline helplessly, unable to look either at Yoda or at Qui-Gon, standing quietly near the window. "Well …," she murmured, "he's a Jedi Master – educated, charming, wise, _good_ …" She sighed, hating the doubts crossing her mind again. Then she forced herself to look over at Qui-Gon, who returned the gaze with a small smile.

"Think you that Qui-Gon knows not his own heart? An immature Padawan he is not – believe in him you should." Yoda patted her cheek this time. "Believe in yourself more you also should. Much more you are than think you."

Kila looked at the tiny being then impulsively kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Master Yoda," she said.

The little Jedi coughed then tapped her leg with his gimer stick. "A loving being you are, Kila – share that love with someone you should." He hobbled over to the open door. "Good night, Qui-Gon, Kila."

"Good night, Master Yoda," Qui-Gon and Kila replied almost in unison.

Kila got up with a grunt and closed the door then walked hesitantly over to join Qui-Gon at the window. She studied his dear face, the broad strong lines of his body, the subtle tension in his frame. "Umm … hello," she said tentatively.

"Kila," Qui-Gon replied. "It's good to see you."

So polite – like they were mere acquaintances. She would have preferred anger over this, but the man was a Jedi – had learned to control his darker emotions a long time ago.

She continued to stare up at him, knowing that it would be up to her to make the first move. But his silence and towering presence intimidated her – made her feel like a foolish adolescent instead of the mature capable woman she truly was.

"For kriff's sake!" she blurted out, exasperated with herself and the whole situation. "I was really stupid earlier – and I'm _so_ sorry I implied I couldn't trust you." She held out her hand.

Qui-Gon unbent enough to take the hand in his. "That _did_ hurt me, I have to admit," he said, thumb stroking over the small bones in her wrist. "But I was going to come to see you tomorrow – I never expected you to come here."

Kila laughed slightly as they sat down on a small settee, Qui-Gon's hand still linked with hers. "Blame Padmé and the three bottles of Arrythrian moonwine we shared. She told me to tell you I was an idiot and to … ah … claim you."

"_Claim_ me?" Now Qui-Gon laughed and took her other hand in his, turning her to face him. "You 'claimed' me that day in Erith," he told her.

His handsome face lowered to hers and she felt her breathing quicken. Khest, it was just a kiss. What was the big deal? Then she tilted her face up and their lips met in the softest sweetest kiss she could have imagined – and all rational thought departed. Except for: _Padmé was right – he DOES have nice lips._


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

Force, she was lovely, Qui-Gon mused, brushing her full lips once again with his. Her lips were soft against his but unyielding – her inexperience was evident. He ran his tongue gently along the gap between her lips – she flinched slightly but opened her mouth timidly to his questing tongue.

He tasted moonwine, sweetcake and something ineffable that he thought of as _Kila_, and then pulled away when she gasped for air. "Breathing is a good thing," he teased her gently, trying to calm his own pounding heart.

"I _told_ you I'd never been kissed before – I didn't know what I was doing!" Kila exclaimed, wrenching away from him and folding her arms over her chest defensively.

Qui-Gon pushed down on the angry retort hovering on his lips. "I was just teasing, Kila," he said calmly, tugging at one of her arms until the hand came free. "It was a lovely sweet kiss – I enjoyed it. In fact," he added, pulling her suddenly onto his lap, "I wouldn't mind another one."

Kila gazed down at him, her full soft lips working silently. Then she slid her hands into his hair and pressed her lips to his a little more firmly than he had done with her. Her tongue probed shyly against his lips and he opened them, letting her explore the recesses of his mouth, his palate, teeth, tongue.

She broke off when the need to breathe became paramount, sighed and pushed her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. "I love you," she mumbled into his neck.

He rested his cheek on her curly head and gave his thanks to the Force. "I love you too, Kila," he told her, tilted her chin up and dropped a swift kiss on her nose. "Now, I think you need a cup of _kevas_ before I take you home."

"Oh! I haven't got my key!" Kila said. "I left it at Padmé's!" The older poorer parts of Capitol City still used metal keys for their homes instead of the retinal scan security of the newer, richer parts.

"Well, it's too late to disturb either Padmé or Dex," Qui-Gon decided. "You're welcome to stay the night." A flash of shy uncertainty made itself known in her eyes. "I have a spare room – it was Obi-Wan's when he was my Padawan."

Kila sighed and ducked her head once more into his neck, brushing a kiss against the hollow of his throat. "Well … all right then."

Qui-Gon smiled down at her, curled up in his lap like a trusting child, and kissed the top of her head. He joggled his knees slightly. "Up you get, woman – I'll make the _kevas_ and you can find something in my closet to wear."

Kila chuckled and got up, drawing Qui-Gon's attention to her full breasts. Jedi or no, he was still a man – a man who found her a powerful temptation. "Come on then, old man," she said, extending her hand to his as he got up.

He tugged lightly at one of her curls. "Brat," he said in retaliation.

And Kila chuckled again. "Thank you."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila followed Qui-Gon into his bedroom, looking at it with interest. It was fairly simply in furniture and color – yet it suited him, being large, masculine and well-worn.

A holo caught her attention and she wandered over to peer at it, examining a younger Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. It was evidently taken the day of Obi-Wan's knighting as he held his Padawan braid aloft with a wide smile.

Qui-Gon smiled also, yet to Kila it seemed that there was an underlying sadness behind the gentle smile and proud arm around the younger man. She examined the picture with interest. Qui-Gon had changed very little in the last decade or so – except to become more silvered and distinguished. He must have good genes.

She brushed her finger against the holo-Qui-Gon's cheek then looked at a picture next to it. Of Qui-Gon at about the same age, he was accompanied this time by a small fair-haired boy with a cheeky grin and a snub nose. A son, perhaps?

She knew Qui-Gon wasn't married, but that didn't preclude him having a child. "Cute little boy," she said, picking up the holo and showing it to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon smiled faintly and nodded his head. "Not just in looks, either – he had a generous heart, never thought of himself."

Had. Past tense. Kila frowned, realizing she'd poked her nose in too far. "I'm sorry," she said. "You should tell me to mind my own business."

"I'd like to tell you," Qui-Gon said, ducking into the closet and emerging with a large sleep shirt. "This will swamp you but you can't sleep in that dress – no matter how beautiful it looks on you."

Kila blushed at the compliment but chose not to dispute it. She almost _felt_ beautiful when he regarded her so warmly, touched her so gently, kissed her so sweetly …

She took the shirt from him then slipped her hand round his neck and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "If it's too painful, you don't have to talk about him."

"I know." Qui-Gon smiled fully at her this time and returned the light kiss. "I let go of my grief a long time ago – but I would like you to know about him. He doesn't deserve to be forgotten."

"Someone once said that our dead aren't dead until we forget them," Kila said, looking once more at the laughing youngling. He looked vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "So, he'll never be dead to you because you'll never forget him."

Qui-Gon smiled and nodded his head. "And I will meet him again when I become one with the Force."

"Not for many years, I hope," Kila said. "I'd rather like it if you stayed around a good while longer." She led the way out of the bedroom and headed for the kitchen. "I'll make the _kevas_ – it's the least I can do for landing on your doorstep the way I did."

Qui-Gon flashed her a grin and brushed her lips with his. "Oh, I think I've already been paid adequately for my hospitality," he offered with a droll wink.

"Big flirt," Kila accused, filling a pot with _kevas_ and switching on the heating unit.

"Little flirt," Qui-Gon shot back, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and resting his chin on her head.

Kila chuckled. "You know; I don't think I even _knew _how to flirt before I met you. You must bring it out in me."

"Natural talent," Qui-Gon replied. "The best teacher in the galaxy can't bring out what isn't there." He pushed aside her curls and bestowed a light kiss to the nape of her neck.

Kila shivered and, for an instant, was sorely tempted to drag him into the bedroom and find out what she'd been missing all these years. However, the rational part of her knew that she was nowhere near ready for that kind of intimacy.

She finished making the _kevas_, trying to remain unaffected as those soft lips explored her neck. "Oh, khest," she said after many seconds, giving it up as a bad job. She slammed the cups back down, turned in the man's arms, put her hands to his face and fitted her lips to his.

He seemed surprised for a second, but followed her lead willingly. Smiling against her lips, he wrapped his arms tightly around her, lifting her off her feet as their lips burned against each other.

Less than half an hour earlier, Kila had timidly allowed him to brush his lips against hers – now she positively reveled in their dueling lips and tongues.

How could this one man make her feel so much?

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Smiling against her full lips, Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around Kila's delightfully curvy body and pulled her up against him as his tongue sought entrance to her sweet mouth.

Sweet, sharp-tongued, witty, passionate … the men here were indeed fools, he mused as her tongue met his, stroking, caressing, doing battle. He'd been with women who were vastly experienced – but hadn't responded to him with one tenth of the passion of this young woman. She was so sensual, so sexy … and completely unaware of that.

Gathering her more firmly into his embrace, he blundered his way to the settee and fell onto it, allowing her to rest completely on him as her fingers buried themselves in his hair.

He settled his own hands on her waist, stroking the indent covered so temptingly by what felt like Bothan shimmersilk. Unable to help himself, he stroked his hands upward, encountering the equally silken feel of the bare skin of her upper back.

"Qui-Gon," she mumbled into his mouth.

"Mmm?" he murmured distractedly, too engrossed with stroking her soft skin. He rolled them over then tugged open the strap of her undergarment and slipped his hand in, cupping a round breast.

"Qui-Gon!" She wrenched her mouth from his.

He looked up to see her wild eyes and swollen lips and his head fell forward with his shame. He'd done it again – pushed her too far, too fast. He cursed his adolescent behavior and pulled his hands away then got up. She rolled off of the settee and stood up, refastening her undergarment and smoothing out her dress with trembling hands.

"I'm so sorry, Kila," he said, hoping that she wasn't going to run away again. "Please … don't go."

Kila fiddled with her neckline and gave a shaky exhalation. "I'm not going anywhere," she told Qui-Gon with a small sigh. "Things just got a bit … intense for me." She sighed again. "Thank you for stopping."

Of course he'd stopped – he was a man, not a brute. "I think we could both use some _kevas_," he said, knowing that he would have to do some intensive meditation if he was going to prevent a recurrence of his behavior.

Kila nodded her head and went back to the kitchen. She filled the cups with the herbal brew and carried them back to the living area, handing one to Qui-Gon before sitting down next to him.

She tucked her feet up under her and leaned back against the cushion, closing her eyes. It pleased Qui-Gon immensely that she felt so comfortable already in his home. She looked like she belonged – and if he was fortunate enough, she _would_ belong with him one day.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila curled up on the settee, part of her wishing that she hadn't stopped Qui-Gon. She'd never expected to feel such pleasure in a man's hands on her, and her newly-awakened libido was calling her all kinds of coward.

He took a sip of his own _kevas_ then pushed a button on the nearby com unit. As soft music – Mon Calamari by the sound of it, though Kila was no judge – drifted out, Qui-Gon slipped an arm gently, almost tentatively, around her shoulders.

Kila smiled up at him, kicked off her shoes and cuddled happily into his big frame, closing her eyes with a contented sigh. "You know something?"

"Mmm?" he encouraged quietly.

"I've never been romantic but this feels … _right_," Kila said a little hesitantly. Why had it been easier to tell him she loved him?

He dropped a kiss to her temple. "Indeed," he replied. He cuddled her a little closer, heaved a sigh, and then said, "May I tell you about Anakin?"

Anakin …? Oh, the boy in the holo! "Of course," Kila said, tilting her head to look up at him.

He deposited a kiss on her lips, sighed once more. Then: "I met young Anakin and his mother thirteen years ago on Tatooine. He was a slave, working in a used parts shop. He and his mother offered me and my party shelter when a sandstorm blew in."

Kila nodded, not surprised. Growing up on Tatooine, she knew exactly how disorienting and deadly their sandstorms could be.

"Anakin – although only nine – was already a superb pilot and very strong in the Force. He wanted to fly the podrace for me – and if he won, his … _owner_ would give me the parts I needed for our flyer."

Now Kila recollected the name. Humans rarely entered the Boonta Eve podrace due to their physical limitations, but Anakin Skywalker of Mos Espa had come close to winning at the tender age of nine. Gardulla had wagered a lot of money on the boy and had been enraged when he'd lost. Kila had avoided the Hutt for a week after that race. "He sounds like a nice boy," she said.

"He was," Qui-Gon said. "He turned down the opportunity for his freedom because I couldn't secure Shmi's – he didn't want her to be alone. Anyway … he lost the race, but made a bad decision. He took the parts from his owner's shop, was discovered and … executed."

"Gods! His poor mother!" Kila exclaimed.

"She was devastated," Qui-Gon continued, his soft voice becoming husky. "Force knows, she was a strong woman, but she couldn't handle the loss of her only child. She killed her owner and was executed by the Hutts a week later as an example to the other slaves." His broad chest swelled against Kila's arm. "I grew to love Anakin in the short time we had together – like a father loves a son."

Kila slipped her hand into his then leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You loved his mother too, didn't you?"

Qui-Gon sighed. "I believe so – yes – although it was a quieter, less passionate love than what I feel for you." He tilted her chin up to look at her. "Does this bother you?"

"No," Kila replied thoughtfully. "You're a good, kind, handsome man – of course you're going to have loved previously. I'm … _glad_ you were able to make the Skywalkers happy – even if only for a short time."

Kila slipped her free hand round his neck and drew his face to hers for a soft – not quite chaste – kiss. "Thank you for telling me about them," she said.

Qui-Gon returned the kiss. "You're quite welcome," he replied.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

Kila woke with a small start, frightened and disoriented. She'd relived in her dreams that terrible night when Gardulla had had her beaten. Getting up with a shaky sigh, she lifted up the huge sleep shirt Qui-Gon had lent her and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

The bacta treatment had prevented most of her injuries from scarring but a couple of the deeper wounds had become infected, leaving nasty scars – one across her stomach, the other one slashing upward from her right breast to her left shoulder. Gods, they were ugly! How in the galaxy would she be able to hide them from Qui-Gon when they made love? She knew it was only a matter of time … She wanted him and knew he felt the same way, but these hideous stripes!

A knock on the door startled her and she squeaked, dropping the hem of the shirt. "Come in," she said, glad that Qui-Gon's massive shirt covered her more than adequately.

Qui-Gon walked in, a frown creasing his brow. "You cried out," he said gently. "Are you all right?"

"Bad dream," Kila said with a small shudder, remembering the whistling sound of the whip, the raucous laughter of the inebriated beings witness to her punishment, the crunch as delicate bones broke.

"You look unwell," Qui-Gon persisted. "Do you need to talk about it?"

"No," Kila said swiftly. She'd never told anyone what she'd experienced – had buried it deeply in her subconscious. And, most of the time, this denial worked fine. "But … thank you. You go back to bed – I'll be fine. _Really_."

Qui-Gon perused her thoughtfully, from bare legs to untidy curls, and then said, "It's not like you to tell a lie, Kila. I accept that you don't want to tell me what has distressed you so badly, but you aren't fine."

Kila sighed shakily. "No; I'm not fine," she agreed. "But I will be. This isn't the first nightmare I've had, nor will it be the last."

Qui-Gon pushed his loosened hair back, but a stubborn lock fell into his face, giving him an almost boyish look. "As you wish," he said, pushing at the recalcitrant lock.

Kila crossed to him – heedless of the fact that she only wore undergarments and his shirt – and slid her arms around his waist. "Thank you, though," she said, resting her head on his broad chest, exposed so enticingly by the unbuttoned shirt he'd evidently donned hastily.

She breathed in deeply and sighed contentedly when he wrapped his own arms around her. He smelled so good, felt so large and warm. And the hollow at the base of his throat was … right … there. She tilted her head up and nuzzled into that hollow, and felt his laryngeal prominence bob as he swallowed.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon swallowed hard as Kila cuddled into him, nuzzling his neck. He was doing his best to remind himself that he'd come to give her comfort, not to get pleasure, but his body and mind were not in agreement with each other. His body was extremely aware of her bare legs – longer and more slender than he would have thought – tumbled curls and soft full breasts pressed up against him.

He closed his eyes, pleading for the Force's help in tamping down his intense physical reaction to the enticing woman in his arms – he'd come very close to scaring her away already. Kila wriggled in his embrace and he let her go reluctantly, seeing her pink cheeks, bright eyes and parted lips. She might be inexperienced but she wasn't naïve – his reaction had been quite obvious to her. "Sorry," he murmured.

Kila cleared her throat. "Don't be," she said, the blush lightening slightly. "It's not something you can choose and it's … rather flattering," she added with a small smile, looking him up and down with a shy appreciation.

Qui-Gon couldn't remember the last time he'd blushed, but the combination of shyness, curiosity and lust in her deliberate perusal made him feel like he had as a 14 year old Padawan – when he'd realized that girls were not just an annoyance, but had become mysterious enticing beings almost overnight. "Well … all right," he said, brushing his lips against hers.

She smiled against his lips, took two fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him closer to her, nestling her curves in his longer, rangier body. Then she opened her lips and nibbled questingly at his bottom lip, seeking entrance.

Which he was more than willing to grant.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Why had she never realized how nice kissing could be?, Kila mused dazedly as her tongue did battle with Qui-Gon's.

And his long body against hers was intriguing and delightfully different. He wasn't as bulky as he looked in his full clothing – being instead lean and rangy with broad shoulders, slim hips and a rear that was … she slid her hands down … yes, eminently squeezable.

He gasped into her mouth then slipped his own hands down her back to return the cheeky squeeze, large hands toying with the hem of her borrowed sleep shirt.

Her stomach felt like she'd walked off a step that wasn't there, her skin was flushed, her heart racing. Considering that he was a foot taller than her, they seemed to fit together very nicely, his all-too-human response pushing against the curve of her belly.

She broke off the carnal kiss when she needed to breathe, heaved a sigh and buried her face in his neck, flicking out her tongue for a quick taste. Was it strange that she enjoyed his neck so much? Maybe, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Qui-Gon's hands had somehow made their way up under her shirt and now rested on the bare skin of her waist, fingers moving minutely – flexing, stroking, caressing.

Emboldened by her own arousal, Kila tentatively slipped her hands under Qui-Gon's opened shirt, silently urging him to shrug it off. He seemed to understand her unspoken plea, for he took his hands out from under her shirt and pulled off his own shirt.

Kila let her eyes drift over the smooth skin covering the lean muscles of his chest, the flat stomach, the intriguing line of hair arrowing down from his navel to under his loose sleep pants. Weren't men of his age supposed to be saggy, flabby and generally wrinkled?

Not Qui-Gon. His Jedi life hadn't allowed him to go soft – he was in marvelous shape. Much better than Kila, who was nearly forty years his junior. And, suddenly, she felt anxious again. How could she possibly compare with this near-perfect physical specimen? Yes, he had scars too, but they were badges of honor, not one night of horrifying abuse.

She pulled away slightly and bit her lip, not quite believing that she'd let this go so far. There was an ugly name for women like her … but she just _wasn't_ ready.

Qui-Gon caught her hands as they fluttered near his chest. "It's all right," he told her softly. "I told you I'd go as slowly as you need – you just got a little caught up in the moment."

"Yes," Kila said frowning. "I don't mean to be a tease, but what I feel for you … both physically and emotionally … it's a little overwhelming."

"I feel the same," Qui-Gon said, pulling his shirt back on and buttoning it up. Much to the disappointment of Kila's libido. "I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you – even Shmi. I'm a little overwhelmed myself." He took her hands and pulled her gently down onto the floor. "I believe we'd both benefit from meditation – you're not a Jedi, but meditation is becoming more and more widely practiced."

"I don't know …," Kila said doubtfully, watching with envy as he crossed his legs easily. "I've got the attention span of a Waykani _drizz-fly_ – meditation isn't really my thing."

"Just imagine you're back in the gardens at Erith," Qui-Gon said. "You were quiet, calm, at peace there. You can achieve that again."

"I can _try_," Kila said, still doubtful. But if it helped calm her emotional wavering, her sometimes-heated, sometimes-horrific dreams, she was willing to give it a go.

"Good," Qui-Gon said, not letting go of her hands. "Now, close your eyes and select a focal point in your memories. Keep that in mind and allow everything else to slip away …"

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon slipped easily into his own meditation, but remained peripherally aware of Kila's struggle to reach that state. She was a creature of the moment – her bad life prior to Coruscant buried deeply in her subconscious – and she felt intensely vulnerable right now. Meditation and self-examination would not come easily to her.

He then saw the two flames begin their mating dance once again – the large flame pursuing, the smaller flicking out of reach, creeping closer, and then darting backward once more. As before, the larger flame won the moment but instead of consuming the smaller flame, a glorious conflagration burst out, filling Qui-Gon with incredible joy.

Just beyond the pure joy of that moment, he felt her signature in the Force. It was stronger than when they'd first met – no longer clouded by fear and anger.

"Qui-Gon?" he heard from Kila, who sounded puzzled. "Are you seeing _my_ vision, or am I seeing yours?"

Qui-Gon brought himself out of the meditation to see Kila staring at him. "You have some sensitivity to the Force," he told her. "Had you been born on one of the core worlds you would have been identified at an early age."

"You mean … I might have been trained as a Jedi?"

"Possibly as a healer," Qui-Gon said. "Your talents likely lean toward empathy and healing rather than battle or protection. You're too old now to go through the full training regimen, but we _can_ show you how to use your talents. If you agree."

Kila regarded him soberly, teeth worrying her lower lip. "You think that's why Yoda was so interested in me?" she asked.

"Likely so," Qui-Gon acknowledged with a small smile. The venerable Jedi Master had been as startled as a Padawan when Kila had kissed his cheek earlier – something in the wizened little being had responded to Kila's spontaneous show of affection.

"So … would you be doing my training?" Kila asked. "If I agree, of course."

"I wouldn't," Qui-Gon said. "I wouldn't wish to muddle the two bonds of lover and teacher. Yoda is very wise – he would find you an eminently suitable teacher."

Kila sighed. "When I was talking to Yoda earlier, he said I was much more than I thought. I'd be an idiot to not try to better myself – and I've been stupid enough for one day." She leaned over, cupped Qui-Gon's face in her small hands and brushed a whisper of a kiss onto his lips. "I'll do it," she said.

Qui-Gon smiled. "I'm glad," he said. "I love you for who you are, but it _does_ please me that you're not going to squander your abilities." He breathed in deeply, catching the sweet perfume of Kila's shampoo. "Now … shall we continue our meditation?"

"All right," Kila said. "If I'm going to become a quasi-Jedi, I'll need all the help I can get." She snorted suddenly. "I can't believe that sentence just came out of my mouth!"

Qui-Gon shook his head fondly. It was so like her to deflect a serious moment with some sort of joke or self-deprecating remark. He took her small hands once more. "Close your eyes, Kila, and find your focal point …"

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

"Correct you are," Master Yoda told Qui-Gon the next day. "Talents for empathy and healing she possesses – a loving nature also. Wish her to be trained, you do?"

Qui-Gon nodded his head. "Obviously not the full regimen – but her abilities could be perverted by the Dark Side. One who knows how to heal most also knows how to inflict the most."

"Agree I do," Yoda said. "Train her I will."

"You, Master?" To say Qui-Gon was surprised was an understatement. He'd been Yoda's last Padawan – over fifty years ago now. And his previous Padawan had been nearly two hundred years prior to Qui-Gon's birth.

"So surprised you should not be," Yoda told him. "A special girl she is – sensed her abilities I did when first I met her, but much fear she had. Ready she now is. A connection she and I have made – a training bond if you will. Train her _I_ will, love her _you_ will. In agreement are you?"

"Of course," Qui-Gon said. It seemed right to him – he and the woman he loved both being trained by Yoda. But Yoda was not a Healer.

"Naturally strong in the healing arts am I," Yoda said as if he could read Qui-Gon's mind. "However, sensed darkness coming many years ago I did – chose to train warriors instead. But forgotten nothing I have." He banged his gimer stick on the floor for emphasis. "Your lover I will train."

"We're not lovers," Qui-Gon said, not wanting his old Master to think he was rushing into things.

"In your hearts and minds lovers you are," Yoda said wisely. "Join the souls and follow the bodies will. Now …" – and he took on a mischievous twinkle – "tell your lover you will that train her I will. Then her expression describe to me you will."


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

Dexter Jettster finished whisking up a batch of Noraskian omelets for the noisy group of students at Table Nine and handed them to one of his droid waitresses.

The door opened and he wiped his hands on his apron before going to greet his customers. He grinned widely as he saw his favorite girl walk in, hand linked with that of Master Jinn. "Sweetness!" he bellowed. "Your shift doesn't start for five hours – why are you here?"

Kila laughed merrily and laid her free hand gently on Dex's arm. "Can we go out back?" she asked. "There's something I need to tell you."

"All right," Dex said, seeing Neela, one of his Togruta waitresses, sidle closer to Master Jinn, her _lekku_ twitching with her sexual interest. Kila glared at Neela and put her arm around Jinn's waist in a proprietary gesture that startled Dex in its boldness.

Kila had come a long way since she'd shown up at his diner five years ago, starved, beaten and terrified, but Dex had never seen her evince any interest in taking a mate until Jinn. Well, good for her, he mused fondly.

Jinn didn't seem to notice the death glare coming from Kila's eyes – he merely hugged Kila then sat down in an unoccupied booth, closed his eyes and was lost to the world. But Dex was familiar enough with the Jedi disciplines to know that Jinn remained aware of everything going on around him.

"Well … what's the matter?" Dex asked gently. He'd never thought of himself as an affectionate person, but Kila brought out feelings in him that were paternal in so many ways.

Kila sighed and tugged at her neckline. "Kriff, this is difficult," she said. "I'm so grateful for everything you've done for me. I love you, my friend – I hope you know that."

Dex hadn't seen her so nervous in a long time. "I know that," he said, patting her tiny hand with one of his huge ones.

"I've been identified as having … Jedi abilities," Kila shocked Dex by telling him. "I'm too old to do the whole Padawan-Master thing, but I've been offered the chance to train as a Healer."

A Healer – that would suit her, Dex decided. She was gentle, thoughtful, giving. And then he realized what this meant for him. "I'll miss you, Sweetness," he said.

"I'll still be around," Kila argued.

"But it won't be the same," Dex said, cringing inwardly at the sentimentality of his words.

"No," Kila agreed, "but change doesn't have to be bad." She put her hands on his shoulders and raised herself up to kiss his cheek. "You've been my friend, my employer, my father all rolled into one – that won't change no matter where my life takes me."

She sounded different already, Dex noted – more mature and confident. He studied her carefully downward from the curly hair, shining eyes and sweet face, and saw that the woman had finally taken the place of the frightened child he'd taken in so many years ago. "You did good, Sweetness," he told her. "I hope you'll be happy – you deserve it."

Kila grinned and kissed his cheek again before stepping back. "You old softy," she teased impishly. "I'll be moving in to the Temple tomorrow, so I'll pack my things now, and then come back for my shift later."

_That_ was his Kila – sweet and selfless. It was a wonder that she hadn't been taken advantage of but, Dex supposed, between him and Obi-Wan – and now Master Jinn – no-one would dare try anything. "All right," he said and delivered a light swat to her rear end. "Get going, girl!"

Kila giggled and headed out of the kitchen, making her way back to the Jedi Master. Dex watched as she quite happily made herself comfortable in Jinn's lap and the two began talking in low intimate tones. He raised his half-full mug of Pyralian ale to her. "That's my girl," he said.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon pulled himself out of his light trance when a warm weight settled in his lap and arms twined around his neck. He opened his eyes and peered into Kila's enticing violet orbs. "How did it go?" he asked.

Kila smiled a touch sadly. "Fine," she said. "I'll miss him, but it's not like I'll never see him again." She sighed and fiddled with his hair. "He's been like a father to me the last few years."

Qui-Gon looked over at the huge humanoid, who was now chivvying one of the waitresses. Besalisk were notoriously hard to read, their brains being four-lobed instead of the two more common in humans and like species, but the feelings he could sense from Dex weren't exactly paternal. Yes; there was caring and tenderness but deep underneath was also a sexual awareness – so deep it was likely Dex himself didn't realize it.

He brushed a gentle kiss over Kila's lips. "Would you like some help in packing up?"

Kila traced his ear with her index finger then smiled at him. "I don't have much to pack, but I'd love to spend the day with you. I have the feeling that once my training begins I won't see very much of you." She chuckled low in her throat. "Yoda strikes me as being something of a hard taskmaster."

"He is, but you'll learn so much from him," Qui-Gon replied. "And you _will _get free time – you're not being sold into slavery."

Kila flinched then smiled. "True, O Wise Jedi Master," she said, her eyes darkening with remembered pain.

"Of course," Qui-Gon returned, realizing he'd touched a nerve with the 'slavery' comment. He'd forgotten that she'd endured slavery for much of her life – her reaction to his thoughtless comment pained him. He joggled his knees to lighten the moment. "Well, as much as I'm enjoying having you snuggled up to me like a baby Ewok, this isn't getting your apartment packed up."

Kila giggled and got up. "A baby _what_?" she asked, extending her hand to pull him up.

Qui-Gon took the proffered hand – not that he needed help getting up – and linked his fingers with hers as they made their way up to the small apartment a couple floors above the diner. "A sentient creature from the Endor system," he told her. "They're small and chubby, look very cute and cuddly, but are actually quite adept warriors."

Kila chuckled, whacking him gently on the bicep. "Should I be flattered or offended?"

Qui-Gon remained silent and received another – slightly less gentle – whack. "Horrible man – I can't think why I love you so much," Kila added as she opened the door to her apartment. "Just for that, you can make me a pot of _kevas_."

Qui-Gon swept a deep bow. "Yes, Milady," he intoned mournfully, causing Kila to laugh again.

"Ah, _that's_ why," Kila said, lifting up on her toes and kissing the flattened bridge of his nose – it had been broken so many times that it defied bacta treatments. "You're funny, you're handsome, you're like no-one I've ever met."

"And is that a good thing?" Qui-Gon repeated the question he'd posed early in their acquaintance.

This time Kila answered – but not in words. Instead she twined her arms around his neck and offered up her lips.

Qui-Gon accepted, reflecting on how confident she'd become in such a short time. One would think that someone still inexperienced near his or her mid-30s would be cold, unable to respond. And while Qui-Gon believed that some people _didn't_ have passion in them, he'd never thought that about Kila. Something in her soul had called out to his soul.

Then one of her hands slipped up under the back of his tunic to explore his skin and he forgot about philosophizing. Smiling against her lips, he tugged her closer to him as their tongues parried and her small hands stroked his skin.

One of her hands reached the middle of his back and stroked over the round scar left by the Sith he'd dueled on Naboo. How he'd survived being impaled by the dark being's saber was beyond most people's understanding. However, Qui-Gon had been grieving still for young Anakin and Shmi, and had channeled that grief into the fight. No-one would ever know how close he had come that day to the Dark Side. Fortunately, his Padawan and his former Master had pulled him back from the brink, but that close call had made him realize that he should pay a little more heed to the Unifying Force.

"What happened?" the young woman murmured against his lips, _both_ hands now stroking the vicious scar.

Lost in the sensuous stroking, Qui-Gon took a couple of seconds to formulate an intelligent response. "Saber injury," he told her, toying with the hem of her own tunic.

She didn't flinch, didn't pull away, so Qui-Gon slipped his hands under the garment, encountering soft skin and round curves.

Kila shuddered against him and he halted his exploration. "Gods, that must have _hurt_," she said, fingers still stroking the large round scar.

"I don't dwell on it," Qui-Gon said gently. It was said that humans remembered being in pain, but not the pain itself. Not so for Qui-Gon. He remembered the crunch as the saber made contact, the burning as it tore through his skin, the nauseating sensation of the weapon exiting through his back, and then the blessed relief as the nerve endings were seared.

"Denial isn't healthy," Kila said, slipping her hands down to his waist and squeezing. "Trust me on that. I spent too long denying the things that have happened to me and it left me a mess." She tucked her head into the crook of his neck and kissed the skin. "Learn from my mistakes."

Qui-Gon smiled down at her curly head. Force; he loved this woman! "I don't deny what happened to me – I just don't allow it to dominate my life. To do so could lead to the Dark Side."

Kila shook her head, the soft strands tickling his skin. "You know, if I wasn't acquainted with your mischievous side and your evil, _evil_, sense of humor, I'd think you were too good to be true."

Qui-Gon wasn't at all surprised that she'd made a joke – she feared much serious conversation, preferring to exchange witty barbs. Whilst he appreciated a good battle of wits as much as anyone, he didn't rely on clever banter to disguise his deeper emotions.

Many of Kila's fears had been smoothed away over their courtship period – time, trust and love would achieve the rest.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila delivered another kiss to his neck, nipping gently at the tempting skin, and then slipped her hands out from under his shirt with a sigh. As much as she could have spent the entire day exploring his strong lean torso, she had an apartment to pack up.

Unable to resist, she captured his lips briefly, tugging at the bottom one with her teeth, and then forced herself to step back while she was still in possession of her faculties. What this man could do to her!

She ushered Qui-Gon into the kitchen with a cheeky pat to his rear end, and then headed into her bedroom. Thankfully, she'd not accumulated much during her time here – mainly clothes and a few small nameday gifts from Dex and Obi-Wan; a vase, a holopic of the hills of Naboo, a bright bedcover.

She pulled out several large boxes and began yanking items out of the closet, literally throwing them into the box. As a waitress and someone who didn't lead a glamorous life, most of Kila's clothing was hard-wearing, unfashionable and easy to maintain. The only exception was the dress she had worn to Padmé's last night.

She'd borrowed some clothing from Padmé today in lieu of the borrowed sleep shirt – she and Padmé were of a similar small stature although Kila was rather more curvy than Padmé's slender delicacy. Kila blushed, recalling the amount of teasing she'd endured when she'd shown up at Padmé's earlier that day wearing Qui-Gon's clothing.

Qui-Gon entered her bedroom at that point, bearing a large pot of _kevas_ and two cups on a serving platter. "Your _kevas_, milady," he intoned once more in that mournful manner.

He put the platter on a shelf then peered into the half-full box. "I never knew till now that you were such an untidy creature," he commented with a smile.

Kila shrugged. "It doesn't wrinkle and I'll be unpacking it all again in a few hours. So what's the point in getting obsessive about it?"

Qui-Gon made a small grimace then held out the brown dress she'd worn yesterday. "I think _I'd_ better pack this," he said. "I'd like to see you in it again, and it won't look half so lovely if you pack it."

Kila blushed a little at the simple compliment, but was no longer in the habit of disbelieving his compliments. "Thank you," she replied just as simply, patting his cheek and stroking the whiskers. "Would you shave off your beard?" she asked a propos of nothing.

Qui-Gon fingered his beard. "I've had this since my Knighting ceremony," he hedged.

"Not permanently," Kila said. "I _like_ your beard – it suits you. I'm just curious."

"I don't know …"

Kila then did something she never would have dreamed of only a month earlier. She widened her eyes, pouted slightly and slipped her arms around his neck, gazing up at him beseechingly. "_Please_?"

Qui-Gon fidgeted then sighed. "All right, then," he acquiesced. "Just for you I'll do it."

Kila giggled with sheer glee. Who would have thought this wise powerful Jedi was such a pushover for big eyes and a pout? "Oh, good," she chuckled then took his hand and led him to the fresher. "I have shaving equipment here," she said. "No time like the present."

"Have you always been this bossy or is this a charming new development?" Qui-Gon inquired mildly, staring at the shave cream with distaste.

Kila slapped his broad shoulder. "Just get on with it!" she ordered.

Qui-Gon sighed then, much to Kila's pleasure, pulled off his tunic, leaving his torso bare for her to study and enjoy. He put a small towel around his neck and then lathered up his face. With careful strokes he first removed the mustache then attacked the beard with evident reluctance. After several minutes of hard work he dabbed off the remaining cream, and then turned to face Kila. "Is your curiosity assuaged?" he asked.

Kila stared. She'd always thought him handsome, but now … He looked easily ten years younger and had an oddly adorable chin. She stroked that smooth chin. "Why would you ever want to cover up this handsome face?" she asked.

"Ahh …," Qui-Gon replied, shifting a little uneasily.

Not surprising, really, Kila realized. He was knighted at only 20 – meaning that he had had the beard for over fifty years. And that was probably _why_ he'd grown it – to avoid looking like a Padawan still. "I like it," she told him, kissing him on his now smooth cheek. "But I know you don't so grow it back."

Qui-Gon moved his fingers over his chin. "It feels … strange," he said pensively. "I've had that beard two thirds of my life – I didn't think I'd ever shave it off."

Kila chuckled. "That says a lot for the power of the pout."

Qui-Gon scowled playfully at her. "Well, don't think I'll fall for that too often, you little brat."

"Probably not," Kila agreed cheerfully. "So I'll save it for important things."

"Like convincing old Jedi Masters to shave," Qui-Gon deadpanned.

"Precisely," Kila shot back. "I should get Padmé to work on Obi-Wan."

"Ah … no," Qui-Gon said. "He tried it about three years ago – half the people kept asking him where his Master was; the other half wanted to …"

Kila put her hand over Qui-Gon's mouth. "Yes well … that's an image I _don't_ need – he's the closest thing I'll ever have to a brother." She remembered that day well – Obi-Wan had taken refuge at Dex's for several hours and she'd gotten to know him a bit better.

"Fair enough." Qui-Gon's eyes gleamed with mischief. "You told me once that my beard tickles – would you like to test the difference?"

Kila laughed, wondering if the younglings and Padawans that held him in such awe had ever seen this mischievous, irreverent side. She suspected not, but loved that she could bring it out in him so readily. She would bet anything that he'd been a terror for mischief growing up. She'd have to ask Yoda sometime.

Suddenly she felt his strong arms pick her up and pull her tightly against him, and his lips sought hers. She let out a small squeak of surprise at his bold move, and then allowed herself to enjoy his lips, his tongue, his taste.

Seconds … minutes … who knew? … later, Qui-Gon set her back on her now wobbly legs and ran a finger over her kiss-swollen lips with an expression of undeniable male satisfaction. "Well, I take it you like me beardless also," he remarked.

Kila rolled her eyes. _Smug son-of-a-Sith._ But she could hardly hide it from him. Whilst she wasn't usually fond of people trying to control her, she _had_ enjoyed the way he'd taken charge of that moment. "Yes, I do," she sighed then slapped his rear end sharply, causing him to start and yelp. "But I need to pack, not spend the next few hours kissing you witless."

At the dumbfounded expression on Qui-Gon's face, Kila swallowed her chuckle and mentally patted her own back. _And there's one for YOU, Kila!_, she gloated.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

**Two weeks later:**

Qui-Gon sat quietly with Kila as the latter told him how her training was progressing. "I think things are going quite well," she concluded then laughed. "He only banged my leg twice with that gimer stick!"

Qui-Gon returned the laugh then sighed. "Kila; I'm leaving Coruscant the day after tomorrow on a mission. I could be gone several weeks."

Kila frowned. "Well, I can't say I won't miss you but I understand," she said. "Can you tell me anything about the mission?"

"I will be accompanying Chancellor Organa to Belterra," Qui-Gon said. "We first made contact more than fifty years ago – at the time they weren't interested in off-world contact so we let them be. Three days ago, their Prelator contacted the Chancellor to indicate that she was willing to discuss joining the Republic."

"Belterra?" Kila frowned. "Aren't they those strange people who believe all sentient life originated on their planet?"

"Only some," Qui-Gon corrected. "And that party fell out of power five years ago – the new powers are a little more progressive."

"It sounds interesting," Kila said wistfully. "Could you use a part-trained Healer?"

Qui-Gon smiled at her. "You're far too distracting, my dear," he told her. "I doubt we'd get much work done."

Kila laughed at that. "Probably not," she acknowledged, sliding her arm around his waist and cuddling into him.

Qui-Gon kissed the top of her head and reflected how well they fit together – physically, emotionally, spiritually. And he made a decision. "Kila?"

"Hmmm?" Kila replied into his neck.

"Would you marry me?"

Kila lifted her head up to look at him, and then she smiled. "Yes," she said simply.

Qui-Gon cupped her cheeks with his large palms. "Really?" he asked. He'd expected her to be a little more hesitant.

"Really," Kila confirmed. She leaned in and kissed him sweetly. "I love you, Qui-Gon Jinn, and I'd be honored to be your wife."

"I love you too," Qui-Gon murmured before covering her lips with his own.

Kila's tongue darted out to caress his lips before seeking entrance and tangling with his tongue. She slipped her hands under his tunic and pulled it over his head, and then ran her small hands gently over his torso.

Those tiny fingers smoothed over his chest then brushed across his flat brown nipples – which puckered instantly. She'd become more bold over the last couple of weeks and had explored his torso pretty thoroughly.

He was distracted from his thoughts when he felt her soft lips move down his neck to his collarbones, placing small nipping kisses on the skin. Force; what she was doing to him!

He slipped his own hands under her shirt, enjoying her soft skin and wondering if it was as pale and delicate looking as the rest of her skin. He ran his hands up her belly, heading for the round generous breasts that he had yet to see.

She flinched when he encountered what felt like a long scar, and Qui-Gon halted his explorations. "Kila," he said gently, "I have dozens of scars and they don't repel you. Why would your scars repel me?"

Kila sighed into his shoulder then sat up straight to regard him solemnly. "In my head, I know you wouldn't be repelled, but … it's hard to get past it. You know I was a slave most of my life. Well, I apparently did something to really annoy my last owner for she turned her trained brutes on me." She shrugged but Qui-Gon could see the pain and humiliation in her bright expressive eyes. "Anyway, I managed to escape Tatooine, get to Coruscant and the rest – as they say – is history."

Qui-Gon felt anger that his sweet lovely Kila had been beaten so brutally – he understood all too well the precarious existence of those in slavery on Tatooine and other worlds. Then he released his anger into the Force before it took hold and took Kila's hand. "I'm so sorry for what you went through."

Kila shrugged again. "We've all had bad things happen to us," she said, touching the saber scar lightly. She bit her lower lip then suddenly unbuttoned her shirt and opened it with trembling fingers.

Qui-Gon's breath caught in his throat as he gazed at her full breasts encased in some soft white material. The undergarment was simple, comfortable, practical – but she was utterly beautiful in her vulnerability. He saw a scar peeking out of one of the soft cups and traced it gently, recognizing with horror the lines of a monofilament whip. The weapon was banned in all civilized societies – properly wielded it could sever limbs and was fit for nothing but terror.

Another long scar marred the soft skin of her belly – this time a vibro-knife. Feeling tears in his eyes, he dipped his head and kissed his way across the scar, telling her without words that he loved her, that she _was_ beautiful.

Her hands came up and combed through his hair and she gasped when he kissed the mounds of her breasts. "Gods …," she muttered, scratching gently at his scalp when he laved the scar with the tip of his tongue.

He could feel her arousal increasing, the slight wriggling, the temperature increase, nipples firming and pushing against her undergarment. He debated turning his head and sucking one of those sweet little nipples into his mouth; her hands tangled in his hair, turning his head in silent instruction and he obeyed.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila was inexperienced but she wasn't some naïve ten year old – she knew that Qui-Gon was aroused and so was she. His soft lips and scratchy beard explored her cleavage, nuzzling deep before anointing her scar with moist open-mouthed kisses.

Then those sweet lips captured her cotton-covered nipple and his tongue bathed it, causing her to gasp – that felt so good! He gave the other nipple the same treatment, and then teased both nipples until they were hard, tingling, almost painful.

Her breasts ached; she felt an unaccustomed dampness between her legs and her belly clenched. Force; she wanted this man so much!

She managed to let go of Qui-Gon's hair long enough to reach behind her and unclasp her undergarment, pulling it off her shoulders. She wasn't brave enough to remove it completely, but this should be a clear enough signal.

Evidently it was. Qui-Gon lifted his head and kissed her lips sweetly, and then slid his hands under the cups of the undergarment, holding, caressing and hefting the heavy breasts. "Beautiful," he muttered then brushed his battle-roughened fingers over her nipples, causing her to gasp again.

He tugged gently at the undergarment, pulling it away entirely. An instinctual modesty had her covering her breasts as best she could with her small hands, but Qui-Gon caught her hands and coaxed them gently away.

She sat in front of him clad in only a pair of plain panties, her breath huffing out rapidly, feeling utterly exposed. Qui-Gon stood up suddenly and shucked off his pants, leaving him in only a pair of very close-fitting shorts that did nothing to hide his arousal. Then he sat back down and wrapped his arms around her in a comforting hug, big hands stroking up and down her back soothingly.

"All right?" he murmured.

"Yes," Kila replied just as quietly, both relieved and disappointed that he'd ceased his ministrations to her breasts. His touch was now soothing rather than sexual, the stroking motions lulling her into sleep.

She snuggled closer into him, gasping when her nipples rubbed against his firm chest.

And the arousal rushed back in full force.

She wanted to feel those tingles again, so rubbed once more against his chest, sliding her hands down his sides, past his trim waist to rest on the tight undergarment covering his slim hips, that delectable rear and a prominent bulge.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed her hands into his shorts, traveling round to squeeze the taut flesh of his behind. He trembled against her but allowed her to go at her own pace, his own hands cupping her breasts, thumbs worrying the nipples.

He had a marvelous rear, she decided now, cupping the firm globes and trying not to stare as his arousal tented his shorts …

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon startled awake and looked around his dank surroundings, a little shaken at the intense sexual dream – he'd even felt _Kila's_ feelings. He looked up and saw the sun rising then scratched a mark in the stone wall.

Fourteen marks. Fourteen days since he had been captured on what should have been a simple mission to the Corellian system. His Force senses had been dampened and his captor(s) kept their faces covered with heavy black masks thereby concealing their identities. They didn't speak when he was there, communicating merely with shoves and strikes.

He wearily pulled his robe a little more tightly around him, and then looked up as the cell door opened to admit … Tyln Dooku.

"We meet again, my old friend," Dooku said as urbanely as if they were still friends meeting suddenly on Coruscant.

Qui-Gon got to his feet and studied his former friend – searching for the good, caring Jedi he had once known.

"I hope you don't think you can 'redeem' me," Dooku inquired. "I have tasted the power of the Dark Side – it is so much more fulfilling. Sidious shared so much with me before he died." A sneer appeared on his face, distorting the noble, still handsome, profile. "Your former Padawan made quite a name for himself that day."

"Yes," Qui-Gon replied, recalling the furor within the Jedi Council when the then Chancellor's alter ego was discovered. "Why have you brought me here?"

Dooku chuckled slightly. "To the point as always, my friend? It's comforting to know that some things will never change." The slight humor dissipated, leaving only the sneer once more. "When Kenobi killed my Master, it left quite a vacuum – and we of the Dark Side realized that it was time to pull back from the one Master one Apprentice rule. To that end, I took over the training of our eager young acolytes in preparation for the day when I could be revenged against young Kenobi. Attacking Senator Amidala did not work – nor did his capture on Rattatak. He has no children … as yet. But" – those still piercing eyes narrowed in on Qui-Gon – "he has his Master." Now the man smiled. "Your apprentice killed my Master – I shall kill the apprentice's Master. Very neat."

"I have no fear of death, Dooku – you of all people should understand that."

"I do, but you will leave people behind who will mourn you. Kenobi, Yoda and your lovely young lover, Kila Marik. She is at a particularly vulnerable stage in her training – it may be interesting to see if I can turn her."

Qui-Gon stared at his former friend and ally. "You're very well informed for someone supposedly in exile."

Dooku smiled again. "I do have my sources still on Coruscant. Yes … Kila Marik would be a satisfying conquest."

"She's stronger than you give her credit for," Qui-Gon said, tamping down on his rising anger.

"That's why her turn to the Dark Side will be so satisfying," Dooku almost purred. "While her empathic abilities are undeveloped, her strength and passion will serve me well. So like her lovely mother in some ways – but Reean had so many weaknesses she didn't pass on to Kila."

"How did you know Kila's mother?" Qui-Gon asked, a terrible suspicion taking hold of him.

"We met many years ago on Tatooine – she was just sixteen but was already so very beautiful. I fell in love instantly but refused to approach her until after her 17th nameday – the legal age on Tatooine _and_ Serenno. Of course, the Jedi Code still forbade attachments but I didn't care. We spent a gloriously intense six months together before the Council found out. I was ordered to end the relationship and as a good little Jedi did so." His lip curled in disdain. "I learned about ten years ago that she'd had a daughter six months after I left – and had died after becoming addicted to deathsticks. I tried to trace my daughter but was unsuccessful until I learned that _Jedi Master_ Kenobi had made friends with a shy young waitress by the name of Marik. At first, I feared that she would fall in love with him but those fears proved groundless. If she _had_ to fall for a Jedi, I'm glad it was you – you I can at least respect."

Dooku fingered the hilt of his saber and gazed off into the distance. "She will grieve terribly for you, my sweet little girl – such a powerful grief will open her to the powers of the Dark Side."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "Do you ever shut up?" he asked insolently.

"Frequently," Dooku said evenly. "My apprentices are fine warriors but are not strong on conversation. I always enjoyed the rapport I had with you – that was my only regret upon leaving the Jedi Order."

Qui-Gon had forgotten just how charming Dooku could be – that when he set his powerful mind and persuasive talents to something, he usually achieved it. And in that moment he feared terribly for Kila.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila paused in her meditation when she detected ripples of unease in the Force. The last couple of weeks under Yoda's intensive tutelage had helped her to open her mind, and her empathic abilities were developing slowly but surely.

Yoda whacked her knee with his gimer stick. "Distracted you are," he scolded. "Focus your thoughts you must. On Qui-Gon's mission dwell not."

_Easier said than done_, Kila thought crossly, closing her eyes once more. Had Yoda ever been in love? If he had then surely he'd understand. "Yes, Master," she murmured obediently. Opening her mind to the Force once more, she found herself in what looked like a cell looking at a handsome, rather suave, older man. She strained to hear the mysterious man's words, but was shoved away with a brutality that made her gasp.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Dooku smiled again. "Your lover – my daughter – is growing strong indeed. She was able to brush my mind just now."

He actually sounded like a proud father – or Master – Qui-Gon realized with a sense of foreboding. Had her training actually rendered her more vulnerable to the Dark Side? He focused his own senses inward but found that he still could not access the Force.

Dooku held up a large bottle. "This is serum from a creature called _ysalamiri_ – they are able to block and obfuscate the Force. An interesting ability and one worth exploring." He tilted the bottle idly as he continued. "Its effects vary – the more powerful the Force presence, the more serum is needed. You" – he smiled – "are extremely strong in the Force, perhaps nearly as strong as me or Yoda. Therefore we have been exposing you to a very powerful concentrate coated on every wall and flat surface of this cell and even in your clothing."

He paused as a young woman appeared at the cell. Tall, slim, her head shaven bare, she would have been beautiful had it not been for the venomous glare she directed at Qui-Gon. "You summoned me, my Master?" she inquired respectfully.

"Indeed," Dooku replied. "Qui-Gon was once a friend of mine many years ago. Qui-Gon; may I introduce Asajj Ventress – one of my finest young warriors?"

Ventress gazed at Dooku almost adoringly – Qui-Gon wondered uncharitably if Dooku had seduced the young woman to the Dark Side in more ways than one. "He doesn't look very powerful, my Master," she dismissed scornfully. "Just another Jedi."

"You will learn that not all Jedi are alike as you encounter more of them," Dooku said easily. "In many respects, Jedi and Sith are the same but where they fear their own darkness, we have learned to embrace it, to master it."

Dooku never lost an opportunity to teach. Qui-Gon recalled receiving many such impromptu lessons from the younger Dooku before and even after he had been assigned to Yoda.

"Yes, Master," Ventress replied, examining Qui-Gon with a little more interest. "I sense something in him, Master," she added. "He has … potential."

"Potential he prefers to squander, to hide away from," Dooku said. "He will not turn, but his death will bring my daughter to me – where she belongs."

Ventress laughed. "I look forward to meeting her, Master," she said. She bowed once to Dooku, raked her eyes down Qui-Gon's form then left as quietly as she'd arrived.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila strained to establish the contact she'd made previously. There was an aura of darkness about him, yet she felt a strange connection to him. However, the mysterious man was now as inaccessible as if he were dead.

Suddenly she felt a tiny hand on her cheek, and she opened her eyes to see Yoda standing on her thighs, peering worriedly at her. "The Dark Side you are feeling," he said. "Follow not that connection or dominate your life it will."

"I'm all right," Kila said then sighed. "I'm sorry, Master – I'm being a very bad student today."

"Worried about your mate you are," Yoda said. "Out of contact for weeks, months, a Jedi's missions may take them. Understand this you will when undertake your _own_ missions you do."

"My _own_ missions?" Kila shook her head. "But I'm not doing the full Jedi thing."

"Not yet of course, and not unaccompanied," Yoda hastened to reassure her, patting her cheek again. "Much more training you will undergo before missions."

Kila heaved a sigh of relief, tamping down the urge to hug the little Jedi. Had he not been her Master she doubted she could have resisted.

A knock on the door interrupted the moment and a very young initiate peered around nervously. "M-Master Yoda; the … the Jedi Council w-wishes to see you and Learner Marik also," she stammered.

"Thank you, young Linala," Yoda said as the initiate shot away. He clambered off Kila's legs. "To the Council we will go," he said. "Curiosity I will admit to as to why summoned you were."

Kila nodded her head in agreement. Since she'd begun her training two weeks earlier, she hadn't seen anything of the rest of the Jedi Masters who formed the Council.

She walked quickly beside Yoda's hoverchair, chewing over what these Jedi could want with _her_. So absorbed was she in her puzzlement that she nearly walked past the Council chamber, but was stopped by Yoda's tiny hand on her arm.

They walked into the chamber and Kila was surprised to see Obi-Wan there – he was a Master but not _all_ Masters served on the Council. She smiled at him – he returned the smile but it didn't reach his eyes.

_What in the Sith hells is going on?_, she wondered.

"Miss Marik," Master Windu said very gently for him as Obi-Wan moved closer to her.

_Now_ she was getting worried.

"Master Jinn went missing in the Corellian system two weeks ago," the Korun Master told her. She sought out Obi-Wan's hand and gripped it tightly as Windu continued; "None of us can feel his Force presence and reliable intelligence reports that he was taken by clone troopers working for Darth Tyranus."

"You think he's … dead," Kila managed to get out, her head spinning and dark spots dancing in front of her eyes. By her side Yoda took her other hand.

"I'm afraid so," a Mon Calamari said, her large sad-looking eyes flicking over Kila's trembling body. "We're sorry to have to bring you such sad news."

"We mourn with you," a Twi'lek male said. "And … please … if you need to talk to any of us, feel free to do so."

"Thank you," Kila murmured faintly. She reached out with her developing senses for Qui-Gon's Force signature – it was true; she couldn't find him. Oh, Gods …

Grayness took over her vision and she gave herself over to it, falling into Obi-Wan's arms.


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

Obi-Wan cuddled the unconscious girl closely to him then scooped her up. "I should take her to the Infirmary," he said, swallowing hard on his _own_ grief. He had been a Jedi all his life – had learned to accept death and loss. He would mourn his former Master but would be able to let him go.

Something told him Kila wouldn't be able to make the adjustment as easily – if at all. Even unconscious, her thoughts were in turmoil – grief, anger, hatred all poured out from her.

The woman in his arms stirred and blinked up at Obi-Wan. "Wha …?" she murmured.

"Just rest," Obi-Wan said, backing out of the Council chamber with Yoda following closely behind, for once looking every bit his near-900 years. Qui-Gon had been Yoda's Padawan after all.

"I tried … looking for him," Kila said huskily. She worried her lower lip with her teeth. "He's really … gone, isn't he?"

"I'm afraid so," Obi-Wan said, striding into the Infirmary and depositing her gently on a bed. "The best we'll be able to do is recover his … body and bring it back here for the proper ceremony."

Kila looked up at Obi-Wan, perhaps sensing his grief. She sat up carefully and opened her arms. "Jedi or not you loved him, too."

"I did," Obi-Wan admitted, sitting down and slipping his arms around her. She buried her face in his neck and heaved a great sigh. They clung together for several minutes – neither quite willing to let go of their connection to Qui-Gon. A tear dropped onto Kila's forehead and Obi-Wan chuckled slightly. "Sorry," he murmured, using the pad of his thumb to brush away the wetness.

Kila just heaved another sigh then patted his back. She yawned and slumped against him. "Tired," she mumbled into his neck.

"Well, sleep then," said Obi-Wan gently. As the young woman's head drooped he untangled himself from her and laid her gently back down against the pillow, pulling a light coverlet over her.

He looked down at her for several seconds, his grief for Qui-Gon compounded by his concern for Qui-Gon's lover. "Big flirt," she mumbled with a smile then sighed and went silent.

The door to the Infirmary opened and Padmé entered quietly, putting an arm around his waist. "I came as soon as I heard," she said softly.

Obi-Wan managed to smile at his betrothed, but felt a stab of sorrow that Qui-Gon would not be there to stand up with him at his wedding. "I'm glad," he said. "Let's leave Kila to rest, shall we?" he added.

They headed out of the Infirmary and Padmé sighed. "In some ways I feel sorrier for Kila than I do for you, Obi. You've learned to accept death, but Kila … she's just found happiness with a good man and then _this _happens." She tilted her head up and caught his lips gently, sweetly with her own. "She's going to need you – you're her best friend."

Obi-Wan kissed the top of Padmé's head. "I love you so much," he declared.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Tyln Dooku probed carefully through the Force, searching for his daughter's unique signature and found it. She was asleep dreaming peacefully – sweet, funny, romantic moments in her brief yet intense courtship with Jinn at the forefront of her memory. It would be so easy to manipulate her dreams, to bring forth her anger and hatred – but it was a brutal method of coercion and Dooku found himself strangely reluctant to inflict further pain on her. He'd had no compunction about bending Asajj Ventress and the other trainees to his will … but they were not blood.

Tyln Dooku was of an ancient noble family with strong familial feelings. Although he'd lost contact with them after leaving the Jedi Order, his paternal feelings did not surprise him. Perhaps tenderness and caring were the way to go with Kila. Probing her mind further, he learned that she'd ended up in slavery after Reean left her and had been beaten badly one time … badly enough that the bacta tank hadn't been able to heal some of the wounds.

_My poor little girl …_ He probed gently into her memories then startled when a barrier slammed down, closing her mind to him.

_MINE_, he heard her Force presence declare. _Mine, you foul son-of-a-Sith._

Dooku smiled, very pleased with her defiance. Her turning to the Sith would not be achieved easily, but it _would_ be achieved. Kila Marik would seek him out, would explore her own darkness with Tyln Dooku by her side as Master, teacher and father.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon barely felt the blows that rained down on him – he'd pulled himself into a deep meditation, seeking out the Force. Dooku's henchmen had forgotten to treat the cell to the _ysalamiri _serum and he was now able to reach the Force once more.

It had been three days since his disturbing encounter with Dooku and he remained terrified for Kila. By now, she would have been informed of his 'death'. She wasn't very far along in her training – she hadn't learned how to accept death and loss. His heart ached for the grief she would feel.

Could he reach her – reassure her that he was in fact alive? Drawing deeply on his reserves, he sought Kila through their lover's bond. _Kila_, he called to her. _Hear me … please._

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila was curled up in Qui-Gon's bed, hugging his pillow closely to her. Yoda had expressed concern that she was prolonging her grief by living in his apartment, but she _needed_ to do this – to be close to him once more.

She breathed in deeply, detecting Qui-Gon's faintly spicy natural scent. "Gods, Qui-Gon, I miss you so much," she murmured. "So why in the Sith hells can't I cry for you?"

She sighed heavily then leaned over and switched off the luminater. She settled back in the large bed and cuddled the pillow closely. It wasn't the same as being encompassed in Qui-Gon's long strong arms, but it was the closest she was ever going to come.

She sniffled as tears threatened, yet something prevented her from giving in to her grief. She'd tried yesterday but the mysterious dark being had tried to intrude. She feared him yet was drawn to him in a way she couldn't understand. Far better to feel nothing than to leave herself vulnerable to _his_ invasion.

_Kila_, she heard suddenly, _hear me … please._

Force; was she going insane? That had sounded like Qui-Gon! "No; you're dead," she whispered, covering her ears with her hands.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon slammed against the barrier that had come up suddenly in Kila's mind. _Kila_, he pleaded in vain, hoping that their lover's bond would allow him to reach her. However, she was still inclined to doubt her abilities and doubtless Dooku was still trying to get to her also. It was likely that she'd shut down out of self-preservation.

Nevertheless he would keep trying. He was not going to let her suffer while he had breath in his body. He brought himself out of his meditation to find Asajj Ventress staring down at his beaten bloody form in distaste.

Now he was aware of aches and pains from cuts, bruises, several cracked ribs and a badly broken arm. Painful and annoying but a healing trance would take care of that.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Ventress scolded, wagging her finger obnoxiously. "My Master would prefer you to not access the Force again. _I_ would prefer you dead, but my Master has an inexplicable fondness for you."

She clasped his broken arm – sending white-hot pain through him – and slammed a needle into it. "Better," she said with satisfaction as the _ysalamiri_ serum made its way into his bloodstream.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila stirred in her sleep and murmured incoherently as her dreams took her back to that beautiful afternoon at Erith. One of her great regrets was that she hadn't had the courage to give herself physically to the man – now she would never know what it was like to make love with him.

She knew that she would have to let go – Qui-Gon wouldn't want her to mourn indefinitely. But it was very hard to do that when there wasn't even a body to put on the funeral bier.

Her dreams changed suddenly. She was in terrible pain in a cold dank cell, and a woman sneered down at her as two huge Chandrila males beat her into unconsciousness. The handsome dark being appeared as her vision faded out and touched her cheek. "I _am_ sorry it has come to this, my old friend," he said.

Kila awoke suddenly, sweating and heart beating furiously. Qui-Gon was alive! She couldn't feel him, but she _knew _it! She scrambled out of his bed and dashed out on bare feet down to Yoda's apartment, uncaring of the stares she garnered, clad only in one of Qui-Gon's sleep shirts.

Yoda opened the door before she could even knock. "Distressed you are," he said. "Accept Qui-Gon's death you must – want you to suffer like this I do not."

"No!" Kila shook her head. "He's alive! I can't feel him, but he's alive. A Sith has him and has somehow dampened Qui-Gon's Force signature. But he forgot to dampen his own."

"Entered the mind of a Sith you did?" Yoda looked as alarmed as she'd ever seen him. "Very dangerous that is – vulnerable to the Dark Side your grief has made you."

"I'm all right, Master," Kila said. "I want to accompany the team that goes to the Corellian system. He needs me, and I need him."

"No," Yoda said firmly. "Ready you are not – in danger you will be. Want that for you Qui-Gon would not."

Kila scowled at the little Jedi. "I wasn't asking permission," she snapped. "With or without the Jedi, I'm going to Corellia. I love Qui-Gon and I'm going to find him – end of discussion."

Yoda emitted an uncharacteristic sigh. "Qui-Gon's defiance I sense in you, young Kila. Need that you do not. Speak I will with the Council – help you they may agree to."

"Thank you," Kila murmured. "And … I'm sorry for snapping at you." She sighed. "I … I just … I felt like my life was over – and now I have hope again."

Yoda patted her leg. "Hope a good thing is," he said, "but false hope … destroy a person it can."

"I understand," Kila said, suddenly very aware of the draft on her bare legs. "Anyway … I should get back to bed." She gave in to impulse and hugged the little being, pressing an affectionate kiss to his wrinkled cheek. "Thank you for listening."

A dark green color swept over Yoda's face in what Kila realized was a blush. "To bed go you, young one," the Jedi Master grumbled. "Go now before find my gimer stick I do!"

Kila giggled and got up. "Anything but the dreaded gimer stick!" she teased. "Seriously, though, Master – I can't thank you enough."

Mischief entered Yoda's eyes. "Another kiss I will accept as payment," he said, indicating his other cheek.

Kila smiled and leaned downward to press a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

"A blaster?" Kila backed away from the weapon that Master Windu offered her.

"You will not walk into Tyranus' domain unprepared," the Korun Master said stolidly. "You are nowhere near ready to wield a lightsaber so this less elegant weapon will have to do."

Kila folded her arms over her chest and stared at the big man mutinously. "I'm training to heal pain not to inflict it."

Master Windu nodded his head. "As you wish," he said quietly. "We'll see you here when we bring Master Jinn back."

"Kriff …," Kila mumbled, snatching the blaster from Mace's hands. She checked it, released the safety, aimed and fired. The mannequin's head was blown cleanly off its shoulders. "I never said I didn't know how to use these things," she pointed out to the stunned Jedi with a small grim smile. "Dex insisted on my learning for when he wasn't around."

"You learned well," Windu said, dipping his bald head to her in respect.

"Thank you," Kila said, returning the small bow.

"Now we come to unarmed combat techniques," Master Windu announced.

"Sithspit," Kila muttered. She'd lost some weight since leaving Dex's but she still wasn't what she would call fit. She shrugged off the heavy tunic, leaving her clad in pants and a closely-fitting vest that, had she known it, displayed her voluptuous figure in all its glory.

She didn't know that, but various adolescent Padawans were sufficiently distracted from their own training that they were zapped by the training remotes.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Master Mace Windu felt a smile tug at his mouth as he observed the adolescents' stunned reaction to Learner Marik's curves. He turned to the bemused woman. "Perhaps we should train elsewhere," he said.

Kila frowned in puzzlement as the young Jedi yelped repeatedly then she nodded her head. "You don't want to intimidate them," she said, completely innocent of the effect she was having. She scooped up her tunic and bowed slightly to the Padawans before preceding Mace out of the training salle.

Mace shook his head and tamped down on the smile. Attractive, loving and modest – Master Jinn was a lucky man. Mace was not attracted to Kila in the least, but she reminded him of a woman he'd once loved. He'd been a 19 year old Padawan and she had been a 28 year old Knight. Nothing had come of his love, for attachments had still been forbidden. Then she'd been killed during a civil war on Dantooine – he hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye.

A small pale hand appeared suddenly on his arm. "Master Windu?" Kila said softly. "Are you all right?"

Her empathic skills were developing well now that she'd accepted her ability. Mace smiled down at her, reflecting on how much he'd come to like her over the last day. "I'm well, thank you, Kila," he said, waving her into a smaller salle – one that was thankfully free of adolescents.

He pulled out a couple of padded mats. "Now; let's begin," he said.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Disheveled, sweating, bruised and thoroughly demoralized, Kila limped out of the training salle a little over two hours later rubbing at her shoulder.

"You'll get better," a youthful voice piped up.

Kila turned and saw a teenage Padawan – maybe 18, hardly any older. "Thank you," she said ruefully. "It's a bit hard to believe right now."

"Master Windu is exacting, but it's been a long time since he took a Padawan," the boy said earnestly.

Kila smiled up at the young man who stood easily ten inches taller than her. He was all gangly arms and legs and big feet at the moment, but she suspected that when he grew into his height he would be big for a human. "Thank you, Padawan …"

"Pol Reon," the boy said.

"I'm Kila Marik," Kila said. "And don't call me a Padawan – I'm too old for that."

"You're not _that_ old," the boy said. "What are you – 23, 24?"

Kila guffawed. "Well, bless you for that!" she said. "Try adding another ten years to your number!"

"Oh," the boy mouthed, clearly taken aback. "Well … no matter. I'm going to Dex's Diner for a bantha burger later. Do you …" – he blushed brightly – "want to come with me?"

_Oh dear_, Kila thought, _better nip this in the bud._ However, she had no experience in deflecting male attention, and she certainly didn't want to upset this young Padawan with his sweet slightly hopeful expression. "I'm sorry, Pol," she replied politely, "but I'm involved with someone already – it wouldn't be right."

"Oh," Pol said, going pink. "I'm sorry I bothered you."

"You weren't a bother," Kila said, resisting the urge to pat his arm. His crush would interpret such a gesture as sexual rather than maternal.

Pol bowed slightly to her. "Well … I should go," he said awkwardly. "And … you _will_ get better, you know," he added.

Kila smiled at such earnest youthfulness. "Thank you," she said.

The Padawan blushed once more then practically ran away in his eagerness to escape the awkward moment.

Kila sighed then shook her head with a small smile. If nothing else, this would make for a funny story to tell Qui-Gon when she saw him again.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and breathed in deeply … mere seconds before the red saber scored its way down his chest and belly. It was agony but he'd suffered worse during that duel on Naboo so many years earlier.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" Asajj Ventress said, sounding pleased about that. Her long fingernails traced the path her lightsaber had taken in a move that would have been sensuous in a lover's touch but was merely monstrous when bestowed by this Sith. "Strong, intelligent, willful – I begin to understand why my Master is so interested in you." She shook her head as she picked up her saber once more and stowed it on her utility belt.

Qui-Gon listened to her with half of his mind – the other half was searching out the Force, obfuscated as it was by the peculiarities of the _ysalamiri_ serum. A hard fist landing on his lower ribs caught his attention and he felt the minute shift that told him he'd fractured at least one more rib.

"Ah … no, no," Ventress scolded, flicking an air bubble out of the antiquated hypodermic before slamming it into his arm.

She smiled benignly at him then yanked him forward by his hair and seized his lips with hers in a brutal, painful kiss. "Mmm," Ventress said, licking daintily at the blood on his lip from her teeth. "A small part of me wishes you weren't to be killed. It's been a long time since I've indulged myself with a coupling, and you would be most … satisfying."

Qui-Gon's skin crawled. He would much rather be an object of hatred from this Sith than one of lust. "I would rather be fed to a Sarlacc," he told the woman.

Ventress balled her fist and let fly, impacting his eye with enough force to draw blood. "Jedi _dog_!" she hissed. She hauled back then lashed out with her spike-heeled boot, driving it into his ribcage.

His vision grayed out and he swayed as he fought back nausea, but was unsuccessful, vomiting stomach acid right onto Ventress' boots. She reared back in disgust and smacked him hard in the face. "Vile brute," she snarled then left in a swirl of black cloak.

Leaving Qui-Gon alone for the first time in two days. He breathed in short and shallow, trying not to feel the ropes that held him by the wrists and ankles to the stone wall.

His ribs ached and his eye throbbed, his torso was blackened and seared and he was filthy and malnourished. All in all he'd felt better.

But he'd also felt worse.


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15**

**Six days later:**

"What a pile of junk!" Kila complained as she surveyed the battered Corellian freighter.

Its captain – a disreputable-looking 'independent trader' perhaps ten years older than Kila – strolled down the ramp and patted the ship affectionately. "She'll fool you," she said, her other hand resting casually on her blaster. "She's fast enough for you, kid – point two past lightspeed. She'll get you there."

Kila and Obi-Wan looked at the little freighter then exchanged skeptical glances. "But will she get us there in one piece?" Obi-Wan said.

The Alderaani female scowled blackly at him. "Watch your mouth, Junior," she said. "Jedi or not, nobody bad-mouths the _Falcon_ and gets away with it."

"Is there a problem?"

Master Windu chose that moment to enter the hangar bay and looked at the scene.

"Just a difference of opinion," Obi-Wan said smoothly.

"I see." Master Windu went over to the freighter and eyed it closely. "You have a fine ship, Miss," he told the Captain. "I've always liked the YT-class."

"Well … thank you," the tough pirate said, batting her eyelashes at Windu almost coyly. "It's good to meet someone that knows quality when he sees it." She took her hand off her blaster and clasped Windu's hand with something more than a professional intent. "I'm Varis Atrali – captain of the _Millennium Falcon_."

"Mace Windu – and these are my associates, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Kila Marik."

"Good to see ya," Captain Atrali said, barely even looking at them. She tucked her arm through the Korun Master's. "Well … shall we go? Time and three thousand credits wait for no woman." With that she strolled back up the ramp, nearly dragging one bemused Jedi Master along with her.

Kila grinned suddenly. "You think she'd even notice if we missed the flight?" she asked.

"Notice? She'd probably pay _us_!" Obi-Wan returned the grin then waved his hand to the ramp. "After you, milady."

"As it should be," Kila shot back, fingering her blaster currently in its holder. She went up the ramp, wondering what Qui-Gon would think if he could see her now. Seeking passage with a pirate, handling a blaster, tossing Jedi Masters as easily as she would a Tokari pancake.

Of course, she reflected soberly, if Qui-Gon _could _see her now she wouldn't be here. She looked at her chrono – it was evening on Coruscant now. If Qui-Gon _were_ with her, she would be curled up with the man on one of their settees, exchanging teasing insults and sweet passionate kisses, his lips on her neck, her hands stroking his firm chest …

She startled out of her daydream when Obi-Wan nudged her into the main passenger area. "We'll get him back, Kila," he told her.

Kila nodded her head. "We will," she affirmed.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Deep underground on a barely habitable planet in the Corellian system, ex-Jedi Tyln Dooku – or Sith Lord Darth Tyranus – settled himself with a grace that belied his eighty-plus years and began his meditation, searching for his daughter's presence. She'd become more elusive as she'd grown in mastery of her abilities, and now it was very difficult to find her, let alone open up contact. But Tyln Dooku was not one to give up easily. Her intransigence simply made him all the more determined that she _would_ be at his side where she belonged.

He found her – it appeared that she was sleeping. On a ship headed for the Corellian system. _Yes, yes_, he gloated softly, _come to me, my daughter._ He could feel her frown and bat at the air – sensing his intrusion perhaps. He retreated a little, contenting himself with skimming her surface thoughts – the hopes, dreams and fears common to a young woman in love. But Kila was no simpering adolescent; she was a mature, passionate woman with strength and courage.

Now, if he could get to her before the Jedi ways truly became part of her …

_Kila_, he sent gently – so gently it would have shocked his acolytes. Whilst no brute who was quick to show violence, he'd never shown any tenderness to any of his Sith warriors and trainees.

_What?_, his daughter grumbled. _Whozat?_

Dooku smiled at Kila's grumpiness – just like a child on a school day morning. _A friend_, he replied soothingly, knowing that she would not believe the truth.

_Friends don't rummage in their friends' brains_, Kila argued sleepily.

She had a good point, Dooku acknowledged. _I agree, but I have been recovering from a long illness_, he lied, _and it has left me fighting to regain the skills I once wielded so easily. I have been reaching into the Force hoping that someone would eventually hear me._

_You're Jedi_, Kila deduced incorrectly, not connecting the previous intrusions with this more gentle introduction. _Look … where are you? Does the Council know about your illness? Is anyone looking after you? Your family, friends … a med-droid for kriff's sake!_

_Hush child_, Dooku commanded, exasperated by the girl's chatter. He could feel Kila's startled confusion and regretted his hastily spoken words. Anger and force would not win her over to him. _I … apologize_, he sent. _I weary easily and my control isn't what it once was._

An image of a feeble old man appeared in Dooku's mind, and he smiled. So that was how Kila saw him – as a helpless, frail old man. That could work – he would take whatever steps were necessary to have his only daughter by his side.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Obi-Wan looked at his sleeping friend, concerned by the restless muttering coming from her. He went over to her and touched her hand gently to induce a Force sleep suggestion.

He recoiled as he felt a surge of darkness – not from Kila herself but … she was definitely close to the Dark Side. Master Yoda had shared his concern for Kila and now … seeing what he was seeing, he felt the same worry.

He put his hand on Kila's shoulder and shook her awake. She sat up and glared at him. "Uhh … go 'way." She flapped her hand at him and yawned.

Obi-Wan felt the dark presence retreat, but something told him that it would be back.

Kila sat up and pulled her blanket tightly around her. "What's the matter?" she asked a little more coherently.

Obi-Wan was not the kind to hide the truth from someone because they were 'better off not knowing'. "I sensed another presence," he told her. "Something of the Dark Side is attempting to break through."

Kila shook her head. "Someone _did_ try a few days ago, but I shut him out."

"Then who did I sense just now?"

"No! That was a Jedi," Kila said. "He's injured and can't control his abilities very …" Her voice trailed off as she saw Obi-Wan's steady gaze. "Oh … he's good," she said. "He can't get to me by force so he tries the sweet old man routine."

"Have you been keeping up with your meditation?" Obi-Wan asked shrewdly.

Kila looked downward – had she been a teenage Padawan she would have shuffled her feet. "I've tried but it's hard to concentrate," she admitted. "I keep worrying about Qui-Gon."

"Well, Master Windu and I were about to meditate," said Obi-Wan. "I believe you would benefit from joining us."

Kila looked up at him, and then sighed and nodded her untidy head. "All right," she acquiesced. She got out of the bed and padded along with Obi-Wan to the main living area of the ship.

Master Windu was already there, sitting with legs crossed and eyes closed, seemingly unaware of Captain Atrali's fascination with him. He opened one eye and nodded to Obi-Wan and Kila then closed the eye and returned to his meditation.

Obi-Wan took Kila's hands and they sat down facing each other. "Breathe deeply inward, hold your breath, and then let it out," he said, figuring that it was best to go back to basics. Kila was very unsettled right now with adjusting to her growing abilities and Qui-Gon's disappearance. The Sith – for that was what Obi-Wan suspected – was using her confusion, worry and anger to try to turn her.

But why Kila? She was barely trained, was not certain in her Force abilities … what was so special about her that a Sith would take such an interest?

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Dooku cursed fluently in several languages as he felt Kila's Force presence fade then be masked entirely, to be replaced by a familiar hated presence – that of Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He clenched his fists then got up. He hadn't paid his old friend a visit for many days – it was time he did so now.

He strode along the dark hallways of the subterranean structure and made his way to Qui-Gon's cell. As he entered he saw Asajj scoring her nails down a vicious-looking saber wound. Dooku shook his head – she was a good warrior but she lacked subtlety. "Leave us," he snapped.

Ventress dipped her head respectfully. "Yes, my Master," she replied and swept out.

Dooku went over to Jinn who – battered and bloody as he was – regarded him mildly, steadily. If Dooku hadn't known him so well, he would have believed that calm façade. However, he'd known Jinn since infanthood – knew that that calm mask hid strong emotions, physical pain and … a little curiosity.

"I suppose you wonder why you haven't been killed yet," he began conversationally.

"I'm mildly curious," Qui-Gon said deadpan. "Care to share?"

Dooku almost smiled at the familiar sardonic humor of his old friend. "Honestly?" he asked.

"It's always good to try something new."

This time Dooku allowed the smile. "I'd forgotten how much I liked you, Qui-Gon," he said. "I find I'm not ready to let you go."

Those bright eyes flicked over Dooku assessingly – almost as if he _wasn't_ half naked and shackled to the wall. "If you think you can reach Kila through me, you're quite wrong," he said. "She is no-one's servant."

"We are all servants in one way or another," Dooku said. "I serve the Dark Side, you serve the Light Side. Kila Marik will be given the choice."

"What – the Dark Side or death?"

"If I killed all those who refused the Dark Side, I would have less than half my current number," Dooku said. "I merely opened their eyes to the realities of the universe."

"Your perception of it, you mean."

"Perhaps," Dooku allowed. "The universe changes according to the being perceiving it."

Qui-Gon dipped his head in acknowledgment of Dooku's point and then resumed his calm stare.

No wonder Ventress had resorted to violence! The Jedi was calm, centered, focused in a way he hadn't been for much of his life. Strange how loss could affect people in such different ways.

Dooku's loss of Reean Marik had caused him to start thinking about the rules that governed his life – to ask questions, to probe. He had eventually come to the conclusion that the Republic was like a great tree that was rotten from within and had chosen to leave.

Jinn, on the other hand … He'd tasted briefly of the Dark Side after losing the Skywalker woman and brat, and this had only made him more determined to follow the Jedi code strictly. He'd started meditating more – had become less inclined to impulse. Yet, if Dooku looked carefully, he could see traces of the headstrong young man he'd once considered his greatest friend.

Making a decision, he waved a hand and the ropes crumbled to dust. Qui-Gon stepped away from the wall and massaged his stiffened wrists. "Better," he said, "my nose was getting itchy."

Dooku smiled again at his old friend's twisted sense of humor. He went over to the cell gate and clicked his fingers to summon a guard. "Bring me a gourd of water and a small bowl of Chandril winter broth," he said.

"Yes, my Lord," the guard said respectfully.

Dooku turned to Jinn who returned the steady gaze before lifting one hand and scratching the bridge of his nose. "You loved Chandril winter broth when you were a youngling," he said, recalling the memory of a frequently muddy 10-year-old Qui-Gon practically salivating as the rich scent of the broth permeated the air.

"Yes," Jinn agreed. He took the bowl of soup, breathed in deeply, and then emptied it onto the ground. "I also considered you a friend when I was a youngling," he added. "Things change."

"Very well," Dooku said, angered by his old friend's willfulness. "If you wish to starve to death, I shan't stop you. I thought you were more pragmatic than that but if you wish to die then so be it."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila wandered into the small kitchen area and nodded a greeting to Master Windu, who was making something that smelled … heavenly. Who knew that the solemn Jedi was a gourmand?

Practically on Kila's heels came the hot-headed Captain Atrali, looking irritated. However, Kila had come to realize over the last few days that that was pretty much the default setting for her face and had learned to ignore it. "Good morning, Captain," she said politely.

"Ugh," Atrali grumbled then went over to Master Windu and slid her arms around his waist from behind, resting her cheek on his back. "I hate mornings."

"Well, hello, sunshine," Windu responded dryly yet Kila could hear the fondness in his tone. The Alderaani pirate and the Korun Jedi were polar opposites yet there was a sexual attraction so potent that it made Kila blush. He turned and brandished the skillet at the Captain. "Have a seat, Varis – I'm about to dish up breakfast."

"Great; I'm starved." Atrali grabbed the Jedi Master's chin and planted a firm kiss on his lips. "I get _really_ cranky when I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry then," Kila surmised.

Atrali surprised Kila by laughing. "Good one, kid – I knew there had to be a smart mouth in there somewhere!"

Kila laughed. "Less than a day after meeting me, Qui-Gon called me a brat," she recalled wistfully.

"So … you and he; you're more than just fellow Jedi?" Atrali asked curiously, taking her plate from Master Windu.

Kila blushed but answered frankly, as was her nature. "We love each other," she stated simply, glad that Obi-Wan had gone to the cockpit to discuss something with the huge Togorian who was first mate of this ship.

Windu – perhaps feeling superfluous to this conversation – bowed slightly to both ladies then departed for the cockpit also.

"Oh? I didn't think Jedi were _allowed _to love," Atrali said, digging into the Toskarian omelet with gusto. "Mmm. Tall, sexy, can cook … and now it seems he's _not_ celibate after all."

"They changed the code to allow attachments about fifteen years ago," Kila said, taking a bite of her own omelet. "It's possessiveness that can lead to the Dark Side."

"I can buy that," Atrali said. "You get possessive, jealous, angry, violent – and you Jedi can do enough damage _without_ getting your heads in an uproar."

Kila nodded her head, surprised at Atrali's perception. She was quite wise in her own rough way. "Precisely," she said. "We learn how to accept loss and to move on. Although … if I were to lose Qui-Gon …" Her chin wobbled as the tears threatened suddenly.

"Hey, kid, we'll find him," Atrali said, patting Kila's shoulder awkwardly. "If I know anything about you Jedi, it's that you're kriffing hard to kill."

Kila sniffed back her tears and aimed a watery smile at the hardened star-captain who seemed to be becoming a friend. "That's true," she admitted. "Thank you, Captain."

"Call me Varis," the older woman said. "As four women up against two handsome Jedi – soon to be three of 'em – you, me, Bant and Mrorr gotta stick together." She finished the omelet then nodded to Kila's nearly full plate. "You gonna finish that?"

"Help yourself," Kila said. "I don't need the fat."

"I'd kill to have a figure like yours, kid," Varis replied, indicating her own tall thin frame. "You're really built, honey – you must have men after you in droves."

Kila snorted inelegantly and poured out two cups of caf. "Hardly," she said. "But I have Qui-Gon; I don't need lots of men." She had been doing a lot of thinking and had decided that, once Qui-Gon had recovered from his captivity, she was going to give herself fully to him.

"Well; good for you," Varis said. "Personally; I'd rather have my limbs torn off by Mrorr than be stuck with the same guy for the rest of my life. Speaking of guys; Kenobi's pretty cute in an upper class boyish way …"

"No," Kila said. "He's betrothed to Senator Amidala."

"And she's not the sharing kind?" Varis sighed dramatically, making Kila giggle. "Too bad."

An astromech droid with a blue dome rolled into the kitchen, extended a small device and plugged it into the comp near the oven. Tweets and chirps issued from it at a rapid-fire pace.

"Ah; thank you, Artoo," Varis told the droid, reading the translation. "We've entered the Corellian system and Artoo's gone into search mode for your mate."

Kila looked at the little astromech that twitted, whirred and cheeped merrily. "Good," she said, patting the droid on its dome. "Thank you, Artoo," she added.

The droid twittered some more, extended another appendage with which it patted Kila's arm, and then unhooked from the comp and rolled away.

Kila stared after the astromech. "What kind of droid was that?"

"Artoo is … different to your run of the mill astromech droid," Varis said. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it had emotions." She grinned suddenly. "I picked it up just after the war against the Seps and considered taking on a protocol droid as well for its language abilities. Artoo spent nearly twenty minutes in a screaming match with it, so I changed my mind."

Kila had encountered protocol droids before – one had worked in Gardulla's palace – and knew very well how prissy they could be. "I bet that was funny to watch."

"Oh, it was," Varis said, getting up. "Anyway; I'm headed for the cockpit. We've got a couple of asteroid belts to negotiate and it's gonna be rough. Better strap yourself in, kid."

Kila aimed a flippant salute in acknowledgment, trying to overcome the nervous anticipation rolling around inside of her. Soon … _soon_, she would be back with Qui-Gon.


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

Ten days – ten marks – later, Qui-Gon resided in a world of pain. His access to the Force cut off by Ventress' daily injections, he could not seek refuge in meditation or enter a healing trance.

He hung by the wrists, his mind carefully blanked to the female hands running over his nude body. Ventress seemed equally fascinated with and repulsed by him. He tensed when her hands reached his posterior, flashing back seven days previously to when a huge Togorian had taken exception to him. Jedi training prepared one for almost anything, but _nothing_ could have prepared Qui-Gon for the agonizing invasion of his body by the large felinoid alien.

Ventress stroked his chest almost tenderly. "It may please you to know that Lord Tyranus executed the Togorian for his actions that day."

Was he supposed to be grateful for that?, Qui-Gon mused. Dooku appeared to have abandoned his plan to kill Qui-Gon – so intent was he on reaching his daughter that he spent much of his time cloistered away in meditation.

Much to Asajj Ventress' irritation. Sith were not adept at hiding their emotions and this passionate volatile young woman was even less so. Had Qui-Gon been a little less battered – physically, mentally and emotionally – he would have attempted to turn this to his advantage.

"I see," he murmured huskily, his throat still raw from the agonized screams that had been ripped from him seven days ago.

Ventress tilted her head to one side. "You don't seem very grateful," she observed.

"Let me out of these ropes and I'll _show_ you how grateful I really feel," Qui-Gon shot back.

A genuine huff of laughter escaped Ventress. "I begin to understand why my Master likes you," she said, stroking her fingers over his chest once more and toying with his nipples. "You're surprisingly witty for a Jedi."

"Rapier wit isn't _all_ they're known for," a familiar warm contralto said. Qui-Gon looked up in shock as _Kila_ strolled into the cell accompanied by Mace Windu and Obi-Wan. Kila pointed a blaster at Ventress. "Now take your filthy Sith hands off my man."

Ventress smiled and stroked Qui-Gon's chest one last time. "You must be Kila," she said. "My Master will be most pleased to know that you have come to his side. He …"

A shot rang out and the Sith screamed and fell to the ground, clutching at her ruined arm.

"You talk too much," Kila said brusquely, her eyes widening as she took in Qui-Gon's battered form. "Oh, Gods …," she murmured, her cheeks paling. She holstered her blaster then hurried over to him and hacked away at his bindings, and then she and Obi-Wan caught him as he fell – his limbs unable to support him.

Meanwhile, Master Windu grabbed the _ysalamiri_ injection and slammed the needle into Ventress' arm. "No calling to your Master," he told her as she glared impotently at him.

"How did … you find me?" Qui-Gon husked.

"Shhh," Kila said, stroking his hair back from his filthy face. She nodded to Obi-Wan who pulled out a blanket, and she and Obi-Wan wrapped Qui-Gon up in it gently. "I know it's near impossible for you, but _try_ not to talk."

"Brat," he mumbled with a small smile, and then gratefully accepted the gourd of water his lover proffered.

Mace finished disarming Ventress then tied her up in a corner. "As much as I'm enjoying your witty repartee," he said, "we only have a small window of opportunity."

The big human came over to them and between him and Kila they managed to get Qui-Gon moving, with Obi-Wan guarding them. They made their way slowly, painfully, along the corridors, Kila glancing cautiously around, her bright eyes taking in everything.

One of Dooku's acolytes – a boy of no more than 12 – stared at them, hatred already marring his childish features. He threw a rock at them, which Obi-Wan deflected with the Force. "Jedi scum!" the boy hissed.

"Shut up, kid," Kila snapped, flicking her fingers over her face. "You haven't seen anything strange."

A blank look appeared on the boy's face and he shrugged then ran back to wherever he'd come from.

Qui-Gon stared at Kila – both pleased and worried over her mastery of the Force suggestion. She seemed … stronger, harder. Grief _did _change people, but he didn't want to lose his sweet, warm, _cuddly_ lover.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila heaved a huge sigh as the _Falcon_ lifted off, then patted the bulkhead affectionately. She'd grown fond of the beat-up old freighter. Qui-Gon was already in a bacta tank being treated for his various injuries, and she shook as the adrenaline surge wore off.

"Kila?" A dark hand covered hers and she looked up at Master Windu. "He's asking to see you."

Kila scrambled up. "Thank you," she said, no longer intimidated by the Korun Master. Although solemn and serious, Windu had become a good friend to her over the days they'd spent together – first in training then in searching the Corellian system.

Her head spun and Windu slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Steady," he said and proffered a nutrient stick. "Eat that first – you'll be no good to Qui-Gon if you pass out."

Kila bit into the stick and felt almost immediately better. She made her way to the small med unit and nodded at Bant Eerin, the Mon Calamari Healer they had brought with them. "May I see him?" she inquired, twisting her fingers together.

"Of course," the Mon Calamari said.

"Thank you," Kila said, took a deep breath and then headed over to the bed where Qui-Gon lay. He'd been healed of his injuries and cleaned up, but he was terribly thin, his face drawn, his eyes sunken. "Hi," she murmured, caressing his cheek with her fingers.

He smiled up at her and caught her fingers with his. "Kila," he husked back. "Missed … you."

Kila bit her lip as tears threatened. He needed her now – she couldn't afford to fall apart. "I missed you too, old man," she replied, cupping his cheek with her free hand and brushing his lips lightly with her own.

Qui-Gon's eyes flickered over her. "You look tired," he said. "When was … last time you slept?"

"Oh … a couple of days ago," Kila said, recalling the restless nights that had plagued her as they'd gotten closer to Qui-Gon's captor.

Qui-Gon shifted to one side of the bed, and then patted the space beside him. "Here," he said.

Kila looked uncertainly over at Bant – the Mon Calamari nodded her large head. So Kila slipped off her shoes, gladly dropped the blaster and clambered into the bed. She cuddled carefully into him, and then sighed when he guided her head onto his chest. "Nice …," she said sleepily.

He stroked her curls. "Very," he agreed. "I love you … so much."

"I know," Kila replied, "but stop talking now." She yawned as Qui-Gon's stroking motions lulled her to sleep. "Sleep, old man."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Tyln Dooku was in a fury the like of which Asajj Ventress had never seen in the noble self-possessed Sith Lord. "My daughter was in this very building and you couldn't bring her to me?" he thundered.

Asajj had no defense to offer. She was very strong in the Force yet two mere Jedi and a part-trained Healer had managed to overpower her. "I have no excuse, my Master," she said meekly.

"And now she is gone – her mind closed to me, protected by those thrice-bedamned Jedi!" Dooku's fingertips glowed with a blue-white light and Asajj braced herself for the horrific death that was her due for such an egregious failure.

_I'm sorry, my Master_, she thought as the electricity crackled through her veins. _I love you and I'm sorry I couldn't be enough._

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Dooku watched as Ventress' body fell to the ground with a thud then kicked it with a disgusted sneer. "Loved _me_? Presumptuous young insect!"

He had loved only once in his life. Reean Marik's lovely face appeared before him, and then morphed into his daughter's face – no less lovely but filled with anger and hatred.

He smiled slightly, musing on the darkness he'd found roiling in her a couple of days earlier, and clenched his fists. _You WILL be mine, my daughter_, he vowed. _This I swear, Jedi. This I swear._

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

"Is he fit for visitors?" Obi-Wan asked Healer Bant the next day as they made their way back to Coruscant.

The Mon Calamari put her webbed finger up to her lips then beckoned Obi-Wan to follow her. He did so and looked over at Qui-Gon's bed.

Kila and Qui-Gon were cuddled together like Riakka pouchlings, sleeping deeply. Their Force signatures radiated contentment, happiness, joy at being together again and Obi-Wan shared in those feelings.

Still asleep, Kila nuzzled into her lover's chest and sighed deeply. Her entire posture screamed 'Mine!', and Obi-Wan recalled her words to the woman who'd been molesting Qui-Gon. Attachments were no longer frowned on but possessiveness could lead to the Dark Side.

Kila stirred and sighed then blinked sleepily up at Bant and Obi-Wan. A bright pink suffused her cheeks and she tried to pull away from Qui-Gon. Her lover grumbled and pulled her back against him, where his sleep-addled brain evidently thought she belonged.

Obi-Wan snickered at his friend's discomfiture and Kila's startling violet eyes glared at him. "Oh, shut up, Kenobi," she grumbled, trying to free herself. "Force; how many hands can one human _have_?"

Finally – no thanks to Obi-Wan, who was now helpless with laughter – she worked her way free and got out of bed. "You could have warned me," she grumbled at Bant.

"And miss seeing your face?" Obi-Wan chuckled. "Not for galaxies!"

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila made a face at Obi-Wan then shook Qui-Gon's shoulder gently. "Wake up, old man," she said. "Your former Padawan is here and I don't see why I should have to suffer alone."

Healer Bant chuckled at that then made herself very busy with nutrient solutions when Obi-Wan glared at her.

Qui-Gon stared sleepily up at Kila, and then caught her hand and bestowed a kiss on it. "Good morning, my love," he said, his voice still a little husky.

Kila stooped and brushed a gentle kiss over her lover's lips. "Good morning," she murmured, no longer so shy about displaying the love she felt for this big, powerful, handsome man. "Are you up to visitors?"

Qui-Gon nodded his head and struggled to sit up. "Easy!" Kila said, slipping her arms around him as Bant tucked some pillows up against him. "Despite what you might think; you're not indestructible, you know!"

Qui-Gon settled back against the pillows then aimed a smile at Obi-Wan. "It's good to see you again, my friend," he said.

"You too, M … Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan said, dragging a chair over to the bed and settling down in it.

Feeling very much in the way, Kila brushed some hair off of Qui-Gon's forehead then said, "Well, I should go tell Varis that you're awake – she's heard a lot about you the last few days."

"Varis?"

"The captain of this ship," Obi-Wan said. "An … interesting woman." His hand went to his rear, which had received numerous pinches and swats from the bold pirate over the last few days.

Kila grinned at him then went off in search of said pirate. Along her way, Artoo joined her and greeted her with happy-sounding beeps and tweeps. "Hello, Artoo," she said, patting the blue dome affectionately.

Artoo twittered something back in a long string of machine code, and then gave a very human-sounding sigh, rolled over to a com unit and plugged itself in. Then it repeated what it had said:

/Master Jinn … he is doing much better?/ It transpired that Artoo and Qui-Gon had been partnered prior to and during the Clone Wars, and that Artoo remembered its former partner, despite having been blasted off Qui-Gon's fighter during one of the final battles and being presumed destroyed.

"Mmm," Kila agreed, chewing on her lip. Physically, he was doing well and time and good food would soon return him to robust health. Yet he seemed more … insecure, clinging onto her in his sleep. Kila was hesitant to enter his mind, especially without his permission, but she suspected that a lot more had happened to Qui-Gon during his captivity than beatings.

/Jedi are trained to deal and cope with things that could destroy another/, Artoo said, patting her hand with an appendage. /But even Jedi need their mates. He will tell you when he is ready./

"You're right of course," Kila said, surprised at how _affectionate_ this little droid seemed. She stroked her hand across Artoo's shiny dome. "Thank you, Artoo."

Artoo unhooked itself from the com, tweeped something at her, and then rolled away.

"You know; if I didn't know better, I'd say that little droid is besotted with you," Varis commented lazily, wiping her hands on a rag.

Kila threw another rag at her impudent friend. "You talk such rubbish," she accused mildly.

"It's a gift," the pirate nodded. "Is he awake?" she added, a propos of nothing.

"He is," Kila said, and then sighed. "He's so … thin."

"Well, a few weeks of yours and Mace's cooking and you'll have to _roll_ him around the Temple," Varis said. "Anyway, I want to meet him – I'm curious as to why he's so special that two Jedi Masters paid me three thousand credits for passage to a Republic system."

"They've paid you nothing yet," Kila reminded her. "We haven't reached Coruscant."

Varis chuckled, completely unoffended by Kila's scathing tone. "You know, kid; I like your style. If the Jedi thing doesn't work out, look me up. You're pretty good with a blaster and you've got a face that people want to trust."

"You know … I'm not even a little bit tempted," Kila said. "I've never really cared about excitement, adventure."

"And yet she's training to become a Jedi," Varis offered to the air with a roll of her eyes.

They walked into the small sleeping quarters and Varis gave a low whistle. "A bit skinny but I wouldn't throw him out of my bunk," she said under her breath.

"Forget it," Kila chuckled. "Remember how good I am with my blaster."

"Calm down, kid – I wasn't serious." Varis put a finger to her lips. "Well, not _entirely_. But don't worry – I don't chase men who are taken. It's a no-win situation; they feel so guilty that their wives or girlfriends get all the really _good_ gifts."

"_Anyway_ …," Kila said loudly, "Qui-Gon; this is Varis Atrali – captain of the _Millennium Falcon_."

"It's good to meet you, Captain Atrali," Qui-Gon said politely. "I've heard quite a lot about you."

"Don't believe a word of it," Varis said. "I'm not a bad sort really."

Kila smiled and went to join her lover, nudging at him until he slid to one side of the bed. She clambered aboard and he slipped an arm around her as she snuggled in to him. "Better," she muttered.

Qui-Gon's lips pressed against her forehead briefly then he said, "This is an old Corellian YT-class, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Varis said. She patted a bulkhead affectionately. "I had the chance of a newer ship but I fell in love with this old girl. She isn't fancy, but she's tough, fast and hard to destroy."

"Like her captain," Kila muttered into Qui-Gon's neck.

"Smart-mouthed Jedi – how d'you put up with her?" Varis asked Master Windu, who'd been sitting quietly as was his wont.

The Korun Master's dark eyes twinkled. "Oh, she isn't the first and she certainly won't be the last," he said. "Unfortunately, she and Master Jinn here bring it out in each other."

"Natural talent," Qui-Gon said. "This girl was a brat long before I ever met her." His dry tone was leavened by the long fingers combing through Kila's tumbled curls.

"Thank you, old man," Kila mumbled indignantly.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon dipped his head and placed a kiss on the tip of Kila's nose. "You're very welcome," he replied, stretching carefully. The bacta tank had healed all his physical wounds. Good food would take care of the malnutrition. And as for the rape … Yoda would be able to recommend a good counselor. Although Silven was an excellent counselor, Qui-Gon shied from the notion of discussing this with the very young woman he'd rescued from rape and whom he thought of in a fatherly fashion.

As horrifying as that violation had been, Qui-Gon was determined that it would not dominate his life. He'd already met another Togorian – Mrorr, the first mate – and had liked the maternal felinoid very much after he'd gotten past the initial tension. It helped that the female was smaller and had soft fluffy russet fur instead of the sleek black coat of his attacker.

He cuddled his lover closer – smiling when her hand slipped under his shirt as if it belonged there.

"You know …," Captain Atrali said awkwardly, "I think we should leave 'em alone." Then her eyelid drooped in a saucy wink. "Just remember; you're still recuperating and some of these walls are pretty thin."

Qui-Gon grinned at the roguish woman and felt Kila giggle and blush hotly. "Go away, you horrible pirate!" she demanded.

"Independent trader," Captain Atrali corrected without missing a beat before shooing Obi-Wan and Mace out with slaps to their rears. She paused at the doorway, blew Qui-Gon a kiss then departed herself.

"I wonder if you two share genes," Qui-Gon said teasingly.

Kila took the bait. "Oh?" she inquired sleepily.

"You're both such _brats_."

Kila lifted her head up and bestowed a glare on him – he'd even missed the 'doom stare'. "You're lucky that you're recuperating," she said darkly.

"Oh, I might be a bit skinny, but I really have nothing to worry about," Qui-Gon replied. He squeezed her waist. "You've lost a few pounds and learned how to shoot a blaster, but you're still my cuddly little Kila." He tilted her chin up and brushed his lips against hers. "And I wouldn't have you any other way."

"Hmm," Kila grumbled. "Well … I suppose I can live with that. Although I'd love to test my new skills against you when you're pronounced fit again."

"You and me, in vests and pants, wrestling?" Qui-Gon gave her a cheeky lascivious grin, wondering if he was over-compensating. "I can do that."

Kila giggled and slapped gently at his chest. "Easy, old man," she teased. "Varis said you were supposed to be resting and Mrorr will be cross if you don't."

"Oh, yes – she'll pet me to death," Qui-Gon said, recalling the Togorian's fascination with his waist-long hair and neat short beard. He was the first human she'd ever met with a mane worthy of the word – so she'd claimed as she combed his hair gently free of the snarls and tangles.

Kila chuckled at that then placed her hands on the bed and levered herself up, to look seriously at Qui-Gon. "Don't _ever_ do this to me again," she said, her bright eyes sparkling with tears.

She lowered her head and settled her lips onto his in a hard, possessive – yet un-brutal – kiss. Qui-Gon slipped his hands into her hair and angled her head slightly, and then sought entrance to her sweet mouth, craving her taste after so many weeks of believing that he would never see her again.

As the passionate kiss ended, he sighed. "You know I can't promise any such thing," he replied. "The life of a Jedi is not easy – for the Jedi or for their loved ones."

Now Kila sighed. "I know," she said. "And I understand. But … understanding doesn't make it any easier." She nuzzled a kiss into his chest and worried a nipple briefly with her teeth, surprising Qui-Gon with the boldness. "If you _had_ … died, my biggest regret would have been not … being with you." She bit her lower lip in frustration then continued haltingly onward, "I would have regretted not letting you make love to me."

Qui-Gon cuddled his lover closely to him, loving her honesty, her bravery. "Well, when I'm pronounced fit there will be nothing stopping us from making love _to each other_." He emphasized the last three words. "But – before that happens – I would love it if you would become my wife."

"What?" Her head shot up and she stared at him as if he'd taken leave of his senses.

Qui-Gon took Kila's small hands and clasped them gently. "I love you so much, and I want to become your husband – to give you love, happiness, a sparring partner, children."

"Oh …" Kila gulped and the tears threatened once more. "Oh, Gods … yes!" she exclaimed. "_Yes_, for kriff's sake!"

Qui-Gon kissed her quivering lips then brushed away the teardrops. Then he undid the leather cord that pulled his hair off his face and tied it around Kila's right wrist. "In lieu of a pledge bracelet," he said.

Kila chuckled then slipped her hands into his unfettered hair and sought out his lips in a long sensual exploration that shook him with its raw emotion. Obi-Wan had been so correct all those weeks ago when he'd advised Qui-Gon that inexperience and naïveté were not synonymous. This was a mature passionate woman who knew what she wanted – who would fight for those she loved.

"I love you, my little warrior-woman," he muttered through kiss-bruised lips.

"You'd better believe it," Kila teased, biting down gently on his bottom lip. "I love _you_, my big Jedi."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Several days later, Kila bid her new friends of the _Falcon_ a reluctant farewell, grinning as Obi-Wan yelped. He'd evidently gone too near Varis and received a cheeky swat to his behind.

She watched as Mrorr enfolded Qui-Gon into her arms, her 8-foot size dwarfing even _his_ large frame. The Togorian stroked Qui-Gon's hair then purred something into his ear that made him chuckle.

Varis, who was not one for protracted goodbyes, made her farewells, accompanied by a lusty kiss for Master Windu. He promptly turned the tables on the outrageous woman by slamming her up against the hull and taking her mouth in a kiss so rough, so passionate, that Kila and the other Jedi didn't know where to look.

Artoo beeped and booped a series of almost sad notes, its blue dome swiveling around. Kila patted the little astromech. "I wish I could understand you," she complained. "I'll miss you."

"Should I be jealous?" Qui-Gon teased as Artoo extended an appendage and patted Kila's hand.

Artoo twittered defiantly and an electronic raspberry issued from within its voder.

"Look who's talking," Kila shot back, indicating the furry mass of feline wrapped around Qui-Gon.

Mrorr released him with a final affectionate tug to one of his ears then came over to Kila. "Look after mate," she instructed in halting Basic. "Mrorr like he very much – pity he no Togorian."

"I'll take care of him," Kila said, patting the massive felinoid's arm. "Thank you for everything." She stretched up and scratched the Togorian behind the ears, resulting in a pleased purring noise.

"Go now," Mrorr instructed Qui-Gon and Kila. "Stay long we cannot – delivery must make."

"All right." Kila patted the little astromech one more time. "Goodbye, Artoo."

Artoo beeped plaintively then rolled back up the ramp and into the _Falcon_, Mrorr following slowly behind.

Kila sighed as the ramp folded upward into the _Falcon_ then slipped her arm around Qui-Gon's waist. He'd put on a little weight over the last few days, but still had a way to go before he returned to his previous lean yet powerful frame. "Let's go home," she said, indicating the flyer that awaited them.


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER 17**

Hissing. Snarling. Long claws. Agony.

Qui-Gon took in a long shaky breath and looked around his apartment, but he was alone of course. Despite his determination not to let the rape dominate his life, he had no control over his dreams. Three nights in a row, he had been awoken from his sleep by the vicious memories.

Kila had gone back to her apartment to resume her training and he had seen little of her the last few days. He hadn't wanted her to leave, but wasn't comfortable with the idea of using her as a crutch, so he hadn't protested. Nor had he told her much beyond the obvious about his captivity.

She wasn't stupid – she _had_ to know something more but she seemed to be content to wait until he was ready to tell her. And he _did_ want to tell her – when time had given him a little distance. Physically weakened as he still was, he knew that he couldn't spare the strength for what was likely a much-needed catharsis.

A knock on the door distracted him from his troubling thoughts and he opened it to find Kila standing there. "I gave you a key," he reminded his betrothed gently. "You should use it."

"I wanted to give you your privacy," Kila said. She stretched up and kissed his lips firmly. He was inordinately relieved that she was treating him as she always had. "After all those weeks in that cell …"

She moved further into the apartment and opened the curtains to show the dawn beginning to peek through on the horizon. "We both have the day off today, and Healer Bant is pleased with your progress," she continued, setting an enormous basket on the table. "I wondered if you'd like to spend the day at Erith."

Qui-Gon recalled the utter contentment he'd felt on that beautiful day – when he'd first realized his deepening feelings for this woman. "Yes," he replied quietly, pushing away his demons. "I'd like that very much."

"Oh, good," Kila said then pushed him in the direction of the kitchen. "Well, make me a pot of caf – I am _not_ a morning person. Then we'll get some food ready."

"Bossy creature," Qui-Gon said with a grin.

She slapped his rear. "Oh, that's right," she teased, her unusual eyes twinkling with mischief.

He returned the cheeky swat and she startled and yelped. "Brat," he told her.

"But you love me anyway," Kila said confidently, slipping her arms around his waist, her lips finding a home in the hollow of his throat.

"I do," Qui-Gon confirmed, tilting her chin up so he could kiss her good morning.

What was intended to be a sweet short kiss soon deepened until they were clutching tightly on to each other. Qui-Gon had somehow lost his sleep shirt courtesy of Kila's busy little hands, and her _own_ shirt was missing several buttons, showing off a very tempting cleavage. A scar peeked out from one of the cups of her undergarment – just like in his dream, except this was a jagged raised scar likely caused by a vibro-knife.

He ran his fingers gently over the scar and she gasped, flinched then forced herself closer. And Qui-Gon knew that she just wasn't ready yet. Nor was he, to be honest. They both had their demons to overcome, their scars to deal with. "Kila," he said, taking a step back, "it's too soon. I'm not fully healed yet." He retrieved his discarded shirt from the dangling luminater.

Kila sighed and nodded her head. "I … ah … I know," she said, fiddling with the now-gaping neckline of her shirt. She blushed hotly. "Well, I certainly can't go out looking like this – you have a shirt I can borrow?"

"Help yourself." Qui-Gon waved a hand toward his bedroom and breathed in heavily as Kila disappeared. How was it that he'd lost control so badly that he didn't remember yanking at her shirt? And she hadn't even stopped him – had yanked at his own shirt instead!

They had to slow down – after all, they weren't animals. And Qui-Gon wanted it to be special. So many first times were fumbling adolescent encounters – uncomfortable and embarrassing – and he wanted better than that for Kila's first time.

They could surely control themselves for another nine weeks. Right?

Then Kila emerged from his bedroom, wearing what appeared to be one of Obi-Wan's old shirts – it fit her too well to be one of Qui-Gon's. Whilst Obi-Wan stood five or six inches taller than Kila, her rounded curves filled out the shirt very _very_ nicely. She pushed impatiently at the sleeves, which were far too long, and then put her hands on her hips. "What?"

_Oh, Force help me!_, Qui-Gon pleaded silently, feeling his vow to wait lose its strength in the face of such an appealingly tumbled-looking woman. "Ah … nothing," he said. He went over to her and rolled up the sleeves to her delicate wrists. "Better," he said.

"Yes …," Kila said then winked. "This one buttons all the way up – which is more than can be said for my _own_ shirt."

Qui-Gon chuckled and dropped a quick kiss onto her smart mouth. "I'll make the caf – there should be some food in the cooling unit." He slapped her round rump gently. "Let's go."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila followed Qui-Gon's tall lean form out of the swoop transport, running her eyes down his broad back, slim hips and nicely-firm rump. She looked up from her perusal and saw another woman give her a wink and a nod as she passed. Kila giggled softly to herself, unable to reconcile this bold lusty woman with the scared girl who – only weeks earlier – had tried to end things because she feared being kissed.

"Enjoying the view?" Qui-Gon asked lazily, turning round to regard her with a mischievous twinkle.

"Absolutely," Kila said, trying desperately to fight back the blush. "You might be a bit skinny still, but you're _very_ nice to look at."

Qui-Gon regarded her skeptically and Kila nodded her head emphatically. "No need for modesty," she added. "You're a big, handsome man that can flatten wrong-doers with one hand and whip up a Toskarian omelet with the other." She slipped her hand into his and rested her head against his upper arm. "You're quite a catch, Qui-Gon Jinn."

And now Qui-Gon blushed hotly, much to Kila's glee. He had to be one of the most unassuming men she'd ever met. And perhaps that was part of his appeal for her – the other handsome men she'd met had all been thoroughly aware of their good looks, entirely sure of their charms. Which had all been lost on Kila.

Qui-Gon lifted up her hand and bestowed a kiss on it. Then they resumed their walk into the retreat of Erith and Kila sighed happily, recalling the beautiful afternoon they'd spent there. Of course, if she ended up falling asleep in his arms again, she certainly wasn't going to be in a hurry to pull away this time!

Kila hurried over to the small brook and stripped off her sandals hastily, rolled up her pant legs, and then dipped her toe in. "Kriff; that's cold!" she exclaimed, pushing her foot farther in. Then the other foot. She sat down and moved her feet lazily then lay down and closed her eyes briefly, enjoying the peace of the early morning.

Near her, Qui-Gon pulled out a container of water and book of some description. He smiled at Kila's supine form then opened the book and sat down with his legs crossed.

Kila returned the smile then closed her eyes once more, seeing no need to talk. Instead she listened to the water rushing over her toes, birds singing in the distance and wind blowing briskly through the lush foliage of this beautiful place.

She pushed her hand through the curls getting in her face and caught sight of the leather cord around her wrist. In a couple of days, the thong would be replaced with a proper pledge bracelet, yet Kila found herself oddly reluctant to part with this little scrap. She'd never realized she possessed such a sentimental streak before.

Closing her eyes once more, she began picturing her wedding day. Qui-Gon would look so handsome in the dark blue long coat currently in vogue for Coruscant bridegrooms, the dark color highlighting the silver in his hair.

As for what she would wear … Well, she couldn't anticipate wearing white. The color did not suit her and she would probably look like a Polonian fluff cake. Maybe a soft rose color would work – bring a bit of life to her pale skin. But that was a Sith hell for another time. Right now, she was quite happy picturing her Jedi in his suit. Mmmmm. Very nice; very nice indeed.

Of course, he was sure to be just as nice _without_ his clothes. Obviously she'd seen his nude body when they'd rescued him from the Sith but, unlike that Sith bitch, Kila had felt no pleasure in looking at her poor battered warrior.

Their wedding night, however, would be a different story. She was fully determined to spend that night examining each and every inch of his long lean body. She sighed and stretched in the emerging sun like a feline and glanced through one eye at Qui-Gon, who was thoroughly absorbed in his book.

She shut the eye and swished her feet lazily through the water once more, now used to the cold stream tickling her toes. Bliss.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon looked up from his book and saw his lover supine on the grass, eyes closed and a blissful expression on her face. He smiled at the sight then picked up his book once more, but his attention wasn't on the pages. Instead, he found himself perusing Kila in a way he rarely had the opportunity to do.

Pink toes with their customary silver rings dabbling in the water, pants rolled up to her knees, and that battered old shirt of Obi-Wan's filled out so very nicely by her hips and breasts … she really _was_ a lovely woman. Her waist seemed a little slimmer, her stomach flatter, than before her Jedi training had commenced but, happily, her full heavy breasts were as temptingly round as ever.

_Don't be a dirty old man!_, he scolded himself, pushing away the thoughts of replacing her undergarment with his hands. A rather _nicer_ topic was their wedding day – scheduled for nine weeks hence.

He couldn't wait to see Kila in her bridal gown, but knew it wouldn't be white. Although white was very much in vogue for brides right now, he'd heard her say something to Padmé about _not_ wanting to look like a Polonian fluff cake.

Qui-Gon was no judge of female fashions – or of male ones, for that matter – yet he somehow knew that white would not be a good color with Kila's pale skin. Maybe something in that lovely brownish shade she'd worn to Padmé's all those weeks ago? It had made her skin glow and as for what the style had done for her curves …

And there he went again! He'd found it very difficult to meditate since his return from Tyranus' clutches – even now that the _ysalamiri_ serum was completely flushed out of his system. Although Kila was a very appealing and tempting woman, he could usually control his baser urges better than this.

He crossed his legs and closed his eyes, and then began seeking out the Force that had been denied to him during those terrible weeks in Tyranus' fortress. The first tendrils of the Force wrapped around him, welcoming him, soothing him, healing him. He felt Kila's own Force signature – which currently radiated lazy contentment – and brushed her mind affectionately before retreating back to the welcoming embrace of the Force.

He felt a return wave of affection from his betrothed and smiled. Yet, despite the love and contentment, he could feel Tyranus trying to break through. His old friend posed a far greater threat than the Togorian ever had – his attacker had been a brute that had _not_ been able to permanently injure Qui-Gon's soul. Tyranus, on the other hand, knew Qui-Gon better than nearly anyone – had seen him grow up, witnessed his triumphs, his failures, even his tragedies.

And the fact that the fallen Jedi was Kila's father only added to the danger. Tyranus had proven willing to torture Qui-Gon in order to reach Kila – had managed to enter her mind on more than one occasion, though she'd been able to beat him back. But that would only fuel Tyranus' desire to have his daughter by his side, to bring her over to the Sith.

He made a determined effort and did not look further into the blackness that formed the Dark Side. It would have been so easy when he'd lost Anakin and Shmi, when the Sith warrior had impaled him on Naboo, when the Togorian had violated him, to have given into the darkness. But love and light had pulled him back, had taught him to control the edge of darkness within him.

Now he was back on the Light Side of the Force. Old friends who were now one with the Force welcomed him, enfolded him. Little Ani sped by on a swoop and waved cheerfully at him. Shmi Skywalker, looking younger and less careworn than she had in life, slipped her arms around his neck, kissed him sweetly, and said; "Be happy, Qui-Gon – Ani and I are."

Then she was gone, chasing after her errant son, who had morphed into a handsome young man with tumbled light-brown curls and a roguish, somewhat cocky, grin. Was this what Ani could have become – or actually was if one believed in the existence of alternative realities?

Qui-Gon opened his eyes with a contented sigh, to find the sun high in the sky and Kila now next to him involved in her _own_ meditation. She opened an eye and smiled at him. "Better," she said.

Even without her strengthening abilities, she was a perceptive young woman. Qui-Gon did indeed feel better for his many hours within the Force, although he didn't fool himself into believing that he was fully healed.

"Better," he confirmed, returning the smile.

She patted his shoulder then shut the eye and resumed her meditation.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

For the first time since she'd begun exploring her Force abilities, Kila found herself surrounded by those who were now one with the Force. Not surprisingly, she knew none of them. Her mother wasn't there so Kila had obviously inherited her abilities from her father … who must still be alive somewhere as he wasn't here either.

She felt warmth, affection, even love in their welcoming presence and regretted that she wasn't strong enough to interact with them. A rather handsome young man with blue eyes and a cocky smirk winked at her and blew her a kiss, followed closely by an older exasperated-looking woman who _had_ to be the youth's mother.

Kila giggled softly when the youth made his way back to her and gave her another cheeky wink. There was something appealing about him and she wondered who he was.

Then she found herself elsewhere, in a place of heartbreaking colors for which there were no names. Flames danced around her, caressing her, yet not burning. Majestic seas washed over her, yet didn't wet her.

Until now, even with her training, Kila had tended to think of the Force as a concept or another plane of existence at best. Now she realized that it was full of joyous, peaceful, nurturing life.

And it was beautiful.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon looked up from his book when he heard a muffled sob come from his lover. She was locked in her meditation, completely unaware of the tears pouring down her cheeks, yet she radiated joy and happiness.

He brushed her mind gently and smiled when he realized where she was then startled when she tugged at him in an invitation. He resisted – after all, meditation was meant to be a private thing – but found himself helpless against her entreaties. It seemed that she knew the power of the pout even within the Force.

_Brat_, he sent affectionately then found himself next to her in the ocean, bobbing up and down, supported by the waves. She sent a wave of water into his face then took off with a skill he suspected she didn't possess in the real world, having grown up on a desert planet.

He spluttered then went after her, catching up quickly and tugging at a pale bare foot. She went under with a choked-off squeal then came back up spluttering and laughing. _Horrible old man_, she declared.

Qui-Gon pulled her adorably sodden form against him and took her lips in a kiss. That was fine, except for the fact that they forgot to tread water and the waves closed over their heads.

Kila broke free and heaved at his shoulders, sending him back under with a triumphant yell. The yell turned into a shriek when he surfaced behind her and dunked her soundly.

He did notice that, even here, she remained partially-clothed while he was as nude as the day he was born. Was she really so self-conscious of her scars that she couldn't let go even during meditation?

She slipped her arms around his neck and plastered herself against him as they floated back to the shoreline. _I love you so much, old man_, she declared happily.

He hugged her tightly to him, reveling in the moment. This wasn't about sex – it was about oneness, unity, love. _I love you too, my warrior woman_, he replied.

He opened his eyes once more and found Kila smiling at him, despite the tears tracking down her face. He strolled away the tears with his thumbs then cupped her dear face and lowered his lips to hers.

She received him eagerly, no sign of the shy hesitant girl she'd been only a few weeks ago. Her tongue tangled with his and her hands delved into his hair, tugging at the leather cord that bound it. "I love your hair," she muttered as his lips found a place just under her ear. "Don't ever cut it off."

"All right," he acquiesced happily, exploring the soft sensitive skin of her neck and the tantalizing bit of skin displayed by the open neckline of her borrowed shirt. He anointed the white skin with moist open-mouthed kisses as they slowly reclined in the soft thick grass.

Then, in a move that ripped out a surprised squeak from her, Qui-Gon flipped them so that she lay on top of him, soft curves nestled in his longer harder body. Then he sought her sweet mouth once more.

They broke away when they ran out of air and Kila buried her face in his neck. "Nine weeks …," she mumbled. "I don't think I'm going to make it." She wiggled her hips against his and Qui-Gon groaned when his sincere interest made itself known, pressing painfully against his shorts.

"Brazen hussy," he mumbled, grasping her hands as they made their way inside his shirt to stroke his chest and stomach.

Kila heaved a sigh, the movement pushing her round soft breasts into his chest, and then smiled at him. "Is it wrong for me to feel proud of myself?" she asked cheekily, running a forefinger across his kiss-swollen lips.

Qui-Gon nipped at the finger, she squealed, and he wrapped his arms around her, buried a hard sloppy kiss into her soft cheek then set them both back on their feet. "Probably," he said.

Kila chuckled then swatted his rear sharply. "Well, if this is wrong, I don't _want_ to be right," she declared.


	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER 18**

**One week later:**

"You think Obi-Wan is going to like this?" Padmé fussed anxiously with the veil of her bridal ensemble.

"You look beautiful," Kila told her friend as patiently as she could – considering she'd answered the same question three times in the last hour alone.

"I don't know …," Padmé almost whined. "Maybe I should put my hair up."

"Touch your hair and I'll rip off your arms and beat you to death with the bloody ends," Padmé's sister, Sola, said in exasperation.

Padmé's hands stopped on their path toward her hair and she stared at her sister. "Beat me to death with the bloody ends?" she repeated disbelievingly. "Have you been reading those trashy holonovels again?"

Sola merely rolled her eyes and slapped at Padmé's hands. "Was I this much of a nuisance when I got married?" she asked.

"Yes," Jobal Naberrie replied simply, giving both daughters a kiss then grinning at Kila. "And so was I," she added. "Maybe it's a Naboo thing – I'm sure Kila here won't be such a nervous wreck when it's _her_ turn."

"I can't wait," Kila confirmed cheerfully, pulling a comb through her curls. It wasn't the wedding ceremony that made her nervous – it was what would happen afterward. Most of the time she was eager to become Qui-Gon's wife, but occasionally her old insecurities would come back to taunt her. She wasn't pretty enough, she wouldn't be able to satisfy Qui-Gon, she had no idea how to be a wife _and_ a Jedi. And what about children? What if she'd inherited Reean's weaknesses? What if she couldn't be a good mother?

A hand in front of her face caught her attention and she blinked into Padmé's concerned brown eyes. "Kila; are you all right?" the younger woman asked.

"Oh … yes," Kila said, having no intention of spoiling Padmé's day with her own stupid fears. "Just wondering how the boys are getting on."

Padmé chuckled. "Obi's nearly 38 and Qui-Gon's 70 something – I hardly think you can call them boys."

"Trust me, dear – they're _all_ boys," Jobal Naberrie said, putting a little color on her eyelids. "It doesn't matter whether they're six or sixty – they'll never grow up entirely."

"True," Melarina Calrissian – Obi-Wan's sister – confirmed. "When Kayden is up to no good, his eyes twinkle like he's eight years old again."

Kila also had to agree, considering Ruwee Naberrie's flirtatious nature and Qui-Gon's penchant for mischief. "I love that twinkle Qui-Gon gets when we're teasing each other," she said. "And Obi-Wan's like a brother – he's _such_ a brat."

"Oh, not just with you," Padmé giggled. "Even with that beard, he still somehow manages to act like a naughty schoolboy."

"And we couldn't do without them, bless their silly hearts," Sola contributed, fixing her hair.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Mon Mothma, an attractive woman and one of Padmé's colleagues in the Senate, appeared at that moment with a large bottle of Arrythrian moonwine. "Let's have a drink to the bride," she said, opening the bottle with a flourish. She passed around several glasses of the lightly fizzing wine, and then settled herself comfortably into a chair, brushing a lock of dark auburn hair out of her face. "So … what are we talking about?"

"Men," Padmé, Sola and Jobal chorused.

"Why am I not surprised?" Mon Mothma asked with a roll of her eyes. The Senator had never married and had very little use for men.

"Because you know us," Padmé told her colleague cheerfully.

Mon Mothma laughed lightly. "There _is _that," she admitted, her frank gaze sweeping over Kila. "Hello," she said. "I'm Mon Mothma."

"I know," Kila said. "I'm Kila Marik," she added, sounding a little uncomfortable. And Padmé was reminded of how shy her friend could be at times.

"Ah, yes – Master Yoda's apprentice," Mon Mothma said speculatively. "You must be pretty special for him to take you on."

"I … ah …," Kila stumbled, grabbing her wine and gulping it down. "I suppose," she muttered, going red.

Padmé could almost sense the tension between her two friends – they evidently didn't like one another. She sipped her own wine then held the glass aloft. "To my attendants!" she said hastily. "Thank you for being here for me today."

"Well, where else would I be, silly?" Jobal Naberrie scolded affectionately, tucking one of Padmé's curls behind an ear and kissing her cheek. "Oh … you look so beautiful, my little girl."

"Mother; please don't cry – you'll smudge your makeup," Padmé said, feeling her own eyes fill. "Today's supposed to be a happy day."

"That's right," Melarina contributed. "To Padmé Naberrie Amidala – soon to be Padmé Kenobi. Or are you going to take _all _the names?"

"Goodness; no!" Padmé said with feeling. "I call the Senator for the Chommell Sector; Padmé Naberrie Amidala Kenobi," she intoned dramatically. "Can you imagine poor Bail having to say that in every session?"

"Well … to the future Padmé Kenobi," Sola said. "If you're even half as happy with your Obi-Wan as I am with Darred, you'll be a lucky woman."

Padmé sniffled and dabbed at her eye with a lace handkerchief. "Oh, kriff, Sola – don't make me cry," she implored.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon slipped an arm around his betrothed, who was watching Obi-Wan and Padmé dance their first dance as husband and wife. "That will be us in eight weeks' time," he reminded her.

Kila smiled then chuckled. "Except for the fact that I'm more likely to dance on your feet than on the floor," she said. "I have all the grace of a Huttlet."

Qui-Gon sighed. He'd really thought she was beginning to get over her many insecurities where her physical form was concerned. Yet there was still the odd occasion when she'd slip in one of her self-deprecating remarks. "Dance with me," he said now, determined to prove her wrong. He'd seen her during her training sessions with Master Windu – she moved with a delicate grace when she concentrated.

"All right," Kila said doubtfully, getting to her feet and placing her hand in Qui-Gon's. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Duly noted," Qui-Gon returned dryly as several other couples moved onto the dance floor. He put his hands on her waist and guided her gently through the simple movements of the traditional Nubian folk dance. "See … you're good at this," he said, smiling down at her.

She frowned uncertainly then slipped her arms around his neck, fingers twining in his long hair. "It's … nice," she agreed. "Maybe I could do _this_ dance at our wedding."

_Our wedding._ Qui-Gon liked those words very much and was pleased that she shared his anticipation for their forthcoming nuptials. The resurgence of her insecurities had coincided with the day they had chosen her official pledge bracelet and a part of Qui-Gon had wondered whether she was reconsidering things. She had been very quiet and introspective that evening, but the next evening she had been a complete brat, reassuring Qui-Gon immensely.

He dipped his head and caught her lips gently with his as they moved. "You're beautiful," he told her.

Kila returned the gentle kiss. "I actually _feel_ beautiful around you," she confessed. She sighed. "I know I'm acting strangely at the moment but believe me; I want nothing more than to marry you."

"Have you fallen behind with your meditation?" Qui-Gon asked gently, feeling the confusion in her.

"I've tried," Kila said, "but …" She stopped there.

"But …?" Qui-Gon probed.

"Not now," Kila insisted. "Can we talk about this tonight? There's something you should know."

Qui-Gon looked down at the lovely troubled face and nodded his head. "Of course," he said tenderly, swinging her around in a gentle arc.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Tyln Dooku probed carefully through the Force, feeling his daughter's mixed emotions – love, anger, fear, confusion. They ran rampant through her, obfuscating her connection to the Force. A skilled manipulator such as Dooku was easily able to play on her darker emotions, bringing her one step closer to the Dark Side.

After learning of Kila's possessive reaction to Ventress' caress of Jinn, his vow to have his daughter by his side was only strengthened. She was strong, she was angry, yet there was also a kernel of tenderness and vulnerability that tempered her darker instincts. However, she hadn't yet learned to fear her dark side, unlike most Jedi.

With the exception of Jinn. Now, that was a man who was wasted on the side of Light. If Dooku could have Kila _and_ her Jedi lover by his side, he would be very happy. Jinn had nearly crossed over into the darkness a number of times in his life – Dooku was only sorry that the man's obstinacy had kept him from seeing how much better things were as a Sith.

But Kila … she was much younger, more malleable and had yet to fully immerse herself in Jedi dogma. Her mind was still open to different ways of looking at the universe.

Dooku slipped further into his daughter's mind and now he saw what she saw. Kenobi had married that pretty little Nubian Senator – he almost snarled with hatred but checked his primitive reaction just in time. He wasn't ready yet to make himself known to Kila.

As for Kila, she was swaying slowly in her lover's arms, a silver bracelet gleaming on her right wrist.

She was betrothed to Jinn – this was not a welcome development. Kila was loving and tender-hearted yet tenacious – whoever won her heart would own it completely. Dooku suspected that even the Jedi Order would take second place as far as Kila was concerned. Her marriage would take her further out of Dooku's reach.

A small sinister smile lit his features. Of course, there were no guarantees that the marriage _would_ take place. Jinn would soon be recovered from his injuries, including the horrific rape by that animal M'row. He would soon be undertaking missions for Jedi Order once more – it would not be a small matter to arrange an accident, but if it removed Jinn from Kila's life, it would be worth the effort.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila shuddered as she felt a cold blackness close in on her and nestled closer into Qui-Gon's big warm body. His arms came around her and she buried her nose in his neck, sighing as she felt her tension ease.

It was a beautiful evening and the party was finally beginning to draw to a close. Padmé and Obi-Wan had departed for a honeymoon on Alderaan several hours earlier and only a few younger party-goers remained.

Qui-Gon settled his long frame on the grass and tugged at Kila's hands until she lay down also, curled up against him with her head on his chest. He loosened the band holding her curls and combed through them with his long fingers. "Are you all right?" he asked tenderly.

"Mmmm …," Kila replied, tugging at the leather that bound his hair until the soft gray locks came free, flowing through her fingers. She wasn't all right but nor was she in the mood for serious conversation. She didn't understand why she'd been feeling so mixed up over the last few days, but _did_ know that she should try to meditate.

However, her meditations had not been the beautiful experience she'd had in the gardens at Erith. Instead, they were filled with bizarre images – some gruesome, some funny, some heartbreaking. Chief among the visions were images of her mother; young and laughing, marred by her addiction, gray and dead in an unmarked grave …

She shivered again, unwilling to risk seeing those horrifying images once more. Perhaps she just wasn't cut out for the Jedi way of life if she couldn't deal with what she saw while in meditation.

She wiggled upward until her cheek was level with Qui-Gon's head, and then rubbed her cheek against the soft hair. What in the Sith hells did he _use_ to make it so touchably soft? She rubbed her other cheek against his head and sighed. "Mmm …," she murmured.

"You sound just like a feline," Qui-Gon commented in amusement.

Kila slid back to her previous position and slipped her hand inside his shirt and rested it on his heart, feeling the steady thumping. "Let's just say that Mrorr isn't the only one who loves your hair," she replied, free hand still entwined in the soft locks.

Qui-Gon chuckled and rested his own hand over the one Kila had on his chest. "You're really very strange," he told her.

"Thank you," Kila replied, feeling her tension ease. "I do my best."

Qui-Gon picked up her hand and kissed it before placing it back over his chest. "Are you ready to talk about what's been bothering you?" he asked.

Kila sighed – she'd been clinging to the very faint hope that he might have forgotten. She should have known better; he was easily the most stubborn, tenacious person she had ever met. "I'll try," she said, feeling the tension rush back.

Qui-Gon slipped his arm around her shoulders. "I'm listening," he told her.

"When you were … missing," Kila began, "I had a lot of trouble meditating. Something … _dark_ kept trying to break through. Then I realized it was a person – a human. And … I saw him … talk to you. That's how I knew you weren't dead. I couldn't reach you because of that serum, but I could – and did – reach him. Several times." Kila sighed shakily. "Now I can't get rid of this darkness – it's hovering everywhere. Even when I meditate." She combed her fingers through his hair. "The man – the Sith … He frightens me, yet something seems to be connecting me to him."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon sighed heavily. "The man you saw was Darth Tyranus. He was once a Jedi, but left the Order several years ago." He clasped Kila's hands, pressing them against his chest. "He was once my greatest friend, but he gave himself over to the Dark Side. Now he wishes for you to join him."

"Me?" Kila asked, sounding bewildered. "But I'm nowhere near as powerful as you or Master Windu or … Ah. _That's_ why. He thinks he can manipulate me into going over to the Dark Side – to be another Sith bitch like that thing that was touching you."

"Tyranus is very powerful and persuasive," Qui-Gon said. "He can manipulate your visions, confuse your thoughts – the end justifies the means."

"Well … how do I protect myself against him?" Kila asked. "I'm tired of being angry, afraid, confused."

"I think, for the time being, you'll be better off if you don't meditate alone," Qui-Gon said. "Another Force presence – one stronger than yours – will help block his access to you until you can control your abilities."

"All right," Kila said. "I'll speak to Master Yoda about it tomorrow." She nuzzled into his neck and sighed. "I just feel so … useless," she added, balling one small hand into a fist. "Having to hide behind Yoda – I'm so sick of being dependent."

Qui-Gon didn't like the anger and self-loathing in his lover and sat up, bringing her up with him. He looked at her steadily. "That's the Dark Side talking," he said. "It feeds on your fears, amplifies them, makes you look for quick and easy answers. Don't let him confuse you, Kila." He pressed a kiss to her lips. "You are strong, brave, beautiful inside _and_ out. You are lovable, eccentric, smart-mouthed and an utter brat. Never forget that." He pressed a harder kiss to those soft lips for emphasis.

"There is no crime in needing help," he added. "We all have felt the pull of the Dark Side at one time or another – I've come very close more than once in my life, but was able to pull back, because I wasn't afraid to admit I needed help." He paused here and reflected on his daily counseling sessions with Healer Janna – a gentle Besalisk who specialized in rape counseling. They were making good progress and Qui-Gon had managed to get an undisturbed sleep every night for the last five nights.

Kila looked up at him, nibbling at her lower lip. "I know," she said. "And I want to be the same smart-mouthed brat you fell for … you strange man." This with a droll wink. "So I'll speak to Master Yoda in the morning and set up a schedule for meditation."

"Good," Qui-Gon replied. He pulled her smoothly to her feet and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "It's getting dark," he added. "May I escort you home, milady?"

Kila bobbed a curtsy. "You may, good sir," she replied then stretched up and caught his lips with her own. "I do love you," she added. "Even when I've been afraid and angry, I loved you."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Dooku cursed as his tenuous connection to Kila faded away. Khest; he had come so close to claiming her! If not for that thrice-damned Jedi, Qui-Gon. "I should have killed you while I had the chance," he said. "Believe me; if I get another opportunity, I will not squander it for sentimentality."

He immersed himself in his meditation once more, trying to find his daughter again. He found her but could not enter her mind – Jinn's own Force presence bolstered her emerging strengths and she was nearly inaccessible.

But he wouldn't give up. When Tyln Dooku set his mind to something, he always achieved it.

Always.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila and Qui-Gon walked slowly through the Temple grounds, hand in hand. Kila felt no need to talk, and Qui-Gon was equally silent, but the quiet was sweet, comforting, loving.

They made their way to the apartment block where many Jedi chose to live, and Kila paused outside her door. "Will you stay tonight?" she asked. "I'm … afraid that Sith might try again and … I'm not strong enough."

"_Yet_," Qui-Gon said firmly. "I'll be happy to stay. Just let me get a sleep shirt and I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Oh, don't dress just for me," Kila said cheekily.

"Brat," Qui-Gon replied affectionately, pleased to hear the familiar impish tones in his lover. He dropped a kiss onto her smart mouth then ushered her into the apartment with a light swat to her rear. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he told her before heading to his own apartment. He retrieved a sleep shirt and a change of clothes then went back to Kila's apartment. She greeted him with a warm kiss and a pot of _kevas_. "I could get used to this," he declared.

She slapped his arm lightly. "I'm sorry," she said, her eyes widening innocently. "You must be confusing me with the servant we don't have."

"I meant the kiss," Qui-Gon chuckled.

"Lying son-of-a-Hutt," Kila mumbled. "Well, sit down and drink your _kevas_ while it's still hot."

"Yes, dear," Qui-Gon said, doing his best impersonation of a dominated husband.

"Now that I couldn't get used to," Kila said. "I may be a bossy wench at times, but I hope I never become one of those women you see browbeating everyone around them."

"Not likely," Qui-Gon said, slipping his arms around her waist and kissing the pale skin of her throat. "I can't picture my sweet cuddly Kila as a nag."

"And I can't see you putting up with it," Kila said. "But we _are_ going to fight – that's part of marriage. I'm not very bad-tempered, but I do get angry."

"Yes; we'll argue, we'll yell," Qui-Gon said. "But we'll make up – that's also a part of marriage."

Kila chuckled. "Trust a male to think of that," she said witheringly.

Then she tilted her head back to allow him further access to her throat, effectively negating her own point.

But Qui-Gon knew better than to point that out to her. Instead he kissed his way further down her neck, pausing to nuzzle an open-mouthed kiss into the notch of her collarbone. He'd soon learned that this was a very sensitive part of her body, and that a simple brush of his lips or tongue at that spot would elicit a deep shudder of need from her.

As always, his lover shivered deeply and sighed, her fingers tangling in his hair and massaging his scalp.

And now Qui-Gon sighed – he _did_ love a head-rub. Kila giggled and scratched gently at the nape of his neck with her fingernails. "I think there's a bit of feline in you, too."

"Rowrr," Qui-Gon replied then lifted his head up from her soft throat. "Anyway, let's drink our _kevas_ before I give in and ravish you." Unable to resist he leaned back down and nipped gently at her neck.

She squeaked and shoved him then chuckled. "Ravishing does _not_ sound like a bad thing," she pointed out.

"No," Qui-Gon agreed, "but I want your first time to be special. Loving, sweet, slow."

"Oh." Kila pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth. "Well … all right, then."


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19**

"You're doing very well, Qui-Gon," Healer Janna told him as they emerged from their shared meditation.

"Thank you. I'm _feeling_ better," Qui-Gon confirmed with a smile.

"And what of your betrothed? Have you been able to tell her about it?"

"No," Qui-Gon admitted, the smile dissipating. "I know I should, but something is holding me back." He sighed.

"You think she won't be able to handle it?" the Healer asked him shrewdly. "It is a difficult thing to discuss with one's partner, but a woman training to be a Jedi Healer cannot be as fragile as you believe."

Qui-Gon considered this. "Maybe I _am_ trying to protect her," he said. "I can't help but recall how uncertain she was at the beginning of our courtship."

"Well, it's your decision but holding in something of this magnitude will only hurt your relationship." The large Besalisk clasped Qui-Gon's hand in two of her big hands. "I speak from experience," she added. "I was raped during the civil war on Ord Mantell ten years ago. I was never able to tell my husband and the marriage ended less than two years later. I withdrew from him, from everything." She sighed. "When I was finally able to tell him, his first words were; "You should have told me – together we can deal with anything". We managed to become friends once more, but the closeness and the trust were gone."

Moved by the distress in the Healer's eyes, Qui-Gon squeezed one of her massive forearms. "Thank you for telling me," he said quietly. "I'll think about what you said."

Janna slipped all four of her meaty arms around Qui-Gon in a brief hug. Contrary to many healing professions that preached distance, Janna was a big believer in holding hands, hugging, affectionate kisses. She seemed to have a sense for what individual patients could handle at each stage of their recovery and tailored her own actions accordingly. "Good," she said. "If you feel it would be easier, you can invite her to a session and tell her while I'm there."

Qui-Gon mused over that in his mind, and decided that it would be a good thing to have a third party present – especially one as wise and skilled as Janna. "I'll bring her to my next session," he said, never one to hang around once his mind was made up.

Janna hugged him once more. "Good man," she said. She paused and Qui-Gon wondered what was coming next. "Tell me about your betrothed," she invited.

Qui-Gon felt the smile reappear of its own volition as Kila's lovely face appeared in his mind. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything," Janna replied. "Your face lights up when you think about her – I'd like to know more about the woman who snared one of the most eligible bachelors on Coruscant."

Qui-Gon fought off the blush that threatened to manifest itself. He and Janna were of an age and had grown up together – he knew her very well, although their different paths had reduced their once close friendship to passing nods in the corridors. "Well, I met Kila a few months ago – she was a waitress at Dex's."

"Master Kenobi's caf enabler," Janna put in dryly.

Qui-Gon laughed at that. "That's the one," he said. "We started off as friends and things just … progressed. I asked her to marry me shortly after my retrieval from Tyranus." He sighed, recalling the possessive passionate embrace just after the proposal. "She's a wonderful woman although trying to convince her that she has any good points can be an uphill struggle. She has quite a low self-esteem, particularly where her looks are concerned. Just because she isn't slim with large eyes and high cheekbones, she believes she's ugly."

Qui-Gon sighed again. "But she's loving, witty, a wonderful cook, passionate … and a brat. I can go from wanting to make love to her to wishing to strangle her in less than five minutes."

Janna laughed at that. "Well, good for her," she said. "It sounds like you've met your match."

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows and Janna added, "Don't give me that innocent look. Don't think I haven't forgotten who dared a group of 8 year old initiates to run naked through the Council chamber!"

And now Qui-Gon laughed at the ancient memory. "I'd forgotten about that," he admitted.

"I hadn't," Janna said. She giggled suddenly – a surprisingly girlish sound. "I've never seen Master Yoda look so shocked."

Qui-Gon smiled and leaned back. "Well, I don't think Kila will ever want to run naked through the Council chamber, but I do enjoy our battles of wills." _And _the more sensual battles of lips, teeth and tongue …

_Anyway_

"She's quite a bit younger than I am," Qui-Gon continued, "which bothered me at first. After all, when I'm 90, she will only just be 50. But I really don't worry about it now."

"As you shouldn't," Janna said. "My ex-husband is sixty years older than I – of course, Besalisk have a longer lifespan than humans. Age is no barrier to love."

"Precisely," Qui-Gon said. "She may be young and inexperienced, but she's not a naïve child who needs my protection. She's a lovely strong woman who'd be very angry if I tried to protect her from life."

Janna nodded then laughed. "I think you've just made my argument _for_ me."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila sat on a bench watching Mace and Yoda wield their lightsabers in an elegant yet deadly dance. She snorted loudly. "And they think _I'll_ ever be able to do that?" she muttered. "Not in a million lifetimes!"

"Easy it is not, young one," Yoda called out, meeting Mace's unusual violet-colored blade with his own green one. "Too impatient you are – thinking only of the present," he scolded, apparently able to berate Kila _and_ fend off the attack of someone easily five times his size. "If easily something comes, worth having it is not." He met Mace's blade with his own, sparks flying toward Kila and making her start. "Learn to exercise patience you must, my young friend."

Yoda neatly relieved Mace of his saber then hobbled over to Kila. "Accustomed you have become to doubting," he said. "Very healthy doubt can sometimes be – make us pause it can – but _too_ much doubt … cripples one it does." He tapped Kila's leg. "Think you six months ago that betrothed to Qui-Gon you would be? That training as a Jedi Healer you would undertake?"

"I didn't _know_ Qui-Gon six months ago," Kila pointed out with a grin.

"Hmpf! A brat you certainly are," Yoda replied. "Take my point, you do?"

Kila considered the wizened little being's words then, heedless of the other Master's presence, kissed Yoda's wrinkled cheek. "I do," she said. "Thank you, Master Yoda."

Yoda flushed greenly then tapped her leg with his gimer stick. "Go now you should," he said. "Meditate, talk with Qui-Gon. Then come back here you will tomorrow – learn you _will_, for stupid you are not."

"Very well, Master," Kila said obediently, although she was pleased to have an unexpected day off. She picked up her training saber, slipped it into its holster, and then bowed respectfully to both Masters.

She made her way out of the training salle, and headed for her small apartment, wondering what to do with her day off. Maybe she'd visit Dex – she'd barely seen him since she'd moved to the Jedi Temple with everything that had happened. He didn't even know that she was getting married in seven weeks!

"Some friend _you_ are, Marik," she mumbled, whipping off her exercise clothes and pulling on a loose comfortable dress. She teamed it with a pair of low-heeled sandals, ran a comb through her unruly curls then pulled a face at her reflection. It would have to do.

She grabbed a small bag of credits then made her way out of the Temple, pausing only to sign out one of the swoops made available for Jedi and learners. It had been over five years since she'd piloted one of the things, but she quickly reacquainted herself with the controls.

Soon enough, she was able to set down the swoop outside Dex's. She got out and paused at the door, surprised to find herself a little nervous. This was stupid – he was her best friend, her father figure! What was there to be nervous about?

She pushed open the door and made her way to a table near the window, exchanging greetings with some of the regulars. Then:

"_SWEETNESS!_"

"Khest; the decibels," Kila muttered, tugging at an ear before being enveloped by all four of Dex's huge arms. "Hello, Dex," she laughed.

"It's good to see you, darlin'," the massive humanoid – who Kila had recently learned was a Besalisk – kissing her on both cheeks. He turned to one of the droid waitresses. "A cup of _zlinth_ juice and a Korun pastry – extra spicy."

The waitress rolled away and Dex pulled Kila over to one of the booths. "You've lost weight, Sweetness – those Jedi aren't feeding you enough."

"Trust me, Dex; I eat plenty," Kila said. "But the training I'm doing hasn't allowed me to put on weight."

"And what's this on your arm?" Dex asked, pulling up her right arm to examine the silver bracelet. "Is there something I need to know?"

Kila chuckled. "I'm betrothed to Qui-Gon," she said. "The wedding is in seven weeks." She paused then hurried on. "I don't know Coruscanti or Besalisk customs but on Tatooine it's customary for the bride's father to stand up with the bride. I … I'd love it if you would stand up for me when I marry Qui-Gon."

"I'd be honored, Kila," Dex said in a rare solemnity.

Kila tucked her hand into Dex's. "Thank you," she replied, nodding to the droid waitress as it deposited the juice and pastry in front of her. She inhaled deeply of the pastry and grinned. "Oh, that smells so good!" she said. "I'm so sorry I haven't been back to see you, but the last six weeks or so …"

"You're training to be a Jedi, gettin' betrothed – you're kinda busy," Dex said gruffly. He looked at her. "You look happy," he added.

"I am," Kila said immediately. "Yes; we have some problems, but doesn't every couple?"

"Problems?" Dex probed. "Anything you need to talk about with ol' Dex?"

"It's … not something I can put into words," Kila said, reflecting on her own self-doubts and the odd fractured thought from Qui-Gon of his imprisonment by Darth Tyranus. He was hiding something, but she was determined to wait until he was ready.

Dex patted her cheek gently. "Well, eat up," he said. "You're lookin' mighty skinny by my standards."

Kila chuckled at that, knowing that she was a long way from being skinny. But, unable to resist, she picked up the pastry and bit hungrily into it, nearly moaning as the spices flooded her mouth.

"Good?" Dex asked.

"Umm," Kila got out with her mouth full.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Several hours later, Kila left Dex's with another hug for the massive being and climbed back into her swoop. She started the engine and ascended slowly, avoiding the other swoops.

She really didn't fancy spending the rest of the day in her apartment, but Dex and Qui-Gon were busy and Obi-Wan and Padmé were still on their honeymoon on Alderaan. Maybe she should grab a book and head for the retreat at Erith? It was incredibly beautiful there and held wonderful memories for her.

Thought was action and Kila accelerated hard, going a shade above the posted speed limit as she made her way back to the Temple. She parked the swoop near the apartment block and hurried up to her apartment, intent on making the most of the afternoon still available to her.

So intent was she on her plan that she ran into what felt like a human wall and fell on her rear with an inelegant thump. "Khest; sorry!" she blurted out, and then looked up to see her betrothed grinning down at her, eyes dancing. She extended her hand to him and he pulled her up easily.

"In a hurry?" he asked mildly as she dusted herself off.

"Yes," she said. "I wasn't accomplishing anything today, so Yoda gave me the day off. And you?"

"Budget meeting with some of the Council members."

"Ah." Kila grimaced. "Rather you than me, my love. If you have nothing pressing later, come join me – I'll be in the gardens at Erith."

"I'd like that – and I'll try," Qui-Gon said.

"Do or do not – there is no try," Kila mimicked.

Qui-Gon grinned again. "Well, as much as I would love to come with you, the Council awaits."

"Off you go then," Kila said. "One thing, though …"

"Yes?"

Kila fisted her hands into his waistband and yanked him forward. "Hello," she breathed before capturing his lips with her own.

After a long heated battle of their tongues, she let him go, taking in his dazed air with a smug satisfaction. She patted his cheek. "Have fun at the meeting!" she told him cheerily.

"Ah … hmm!" Qui-Gon gulped, blushing at the stares and whispers from the other Jedi that passed them by. He smoothed down his shirt, cleared his throat, and then strode away.

Kila giggled to herself, and then went into her small apartment to find a book.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

"Distracted you are, Qui-Gon," he heard Master Yoda say.

"Yes; I apologize, Master Yoda," Qui-Gon said, feeling heat on his cheeks. He'd been unable to concentrate on the – admittedly boring – budget discussion, his mind insisting on replaying the passionate encounter with his betrothed. "What were you saying?"

"Matters it does not," Yoda said. "Download this discussion into your personal com I shall," he added. "Confused and muddled your mind is," he observed. "Meditate you should – to interfere with your duties your attachment should not."

"I know, Master," Qui-Gon murmured, feeling much like he had as a youthful Padawan. "If you'll allow it, I'll go and meditate now."

"Good, good," Yoda said, and then caught at Qui-Gon's hand before he could rise. "Your sessions with Healer Janna; well do they go?"

"It's getting better," Qui-Gon said, reflecting on how horrible the first few meetings with his old friend had been. "There are good days and bad days, but the good days are more frequent."

"Good," Yoda said once more. "Told Kila you have not – worried about you she is."

"I know she is," Qui-Gon acknowledged. "Healer Janna has offered to have Kila attend one of my sessions."

"And agree to this you did, but how feel you about it?"

The little Master was shockingly perceptive. "Part of me wants to keep this from her forever," Qui-Gon admitted. "Even though it'll be better for it to be out in the open …"

"If more people can be encouraged to discuss this kind of thing, it'll carry less stigma," Mace put in. "If people realize that it can happen to anyone – even a member of the Jedi Council – it will have less power over those who _are_ attacked."

As someone who had once been similarly attacked, Mace had a valid point. "I agree in my head," Qui-Gon said. "But," he added in lower tones, "when I relive it in my dreams, all I want is to bury it deep inside."

Yoda tapped Qui-Gon's knee hard with his gimer stick. "Meditate we will together," he said. "Fight back the darkness you will – find yourself again."

Qui-Gon nodded his head, trying to dismiss the image of the snarling Togorian. "Thank you, Master Yoda," he told his old friend and mentor.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila closed her book and rolled onto her back with a pleasured sigh. She squinted up at the sky, looking at the fluffy white clouds and ignoring the quiet voices of the other Jedi in the gardens.

_Other_ Jedi? When had she started thinking of herself as a Jedi? She had a kriffing long way to go before she was ready to be let loose as a Healer – and a Knight she would never be.

She rolled back onto her stomach and rested her chin in her hands as she stared vaguely off into the distance, noting peripherally the two Jedi strolling along hand in hand along the water's edge.

The woman was very obviously pregnant and she lifted her smiling face up to the male, who kissed her gently, hands resting on the large protruding stomach. The two then sat down, the man pulling his lover into his lap before rubbing her neck and shoulders. "I love you," he said, kissing the nape of her neck, "my little warrior woman."

"And I love you, Qui-Gon," the woman murmured.

Kila brought herself back to her surroundings, wondering if that had just been a dream or if she had seen a possible future. She sat up and rested a hand on her empty body, and wondered what it would feel like to be heavy with Qui-Gon's child. Yes; she would be uncomfortable, tired and aching but … Qui-Gon's child.

"I want that," she declared. A mischievous little girl with her curly hair and Qui-Gon's bright blue eyes. Or a tall handsome boy with Qui-Gon's noble features. "I really do want that."

And, all of a sudden, seven weeks seemed like an eternity.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**The next day:**

Kila nodded politely to the Besalisk female as she followed her lover into the comfortable suite.

"It's good to finally meet you," Healer Janna said, waving Kila and Qui-Gon onto a settee. "Qui-Gon has told me a lot about you."

"All right," Kila murmured. She knew that Janna was a counselor – she was evidently involved in helping Qui-Gon recover from his time in the Sith Lord's prison.

"Kila." Qui-Gon turned and took her hands in his. "I have something to tell you. I don't want to, but I _need_ to."

Shaken by the waver in the strong man's voice, Kila nodded her head. "I'm listening," she said.

"I … you must know that there was more than the occasional beating when Tyranus held me," Qui-Gon began. He let go of her hands and stared down at his fingers.

"Yes," Kila confirmed. She looked over at Janna, but the Besalisk merely shook her head. "Go on," Kila told her lover, resting her hand on his thigh.

Qui-Gon surprisingly tensed under her gentle touch and Kila removed her hand quickly. "I'm sorry," he grated out, capturing her hand and squeezing it. "Well … about a week before you arrived, I was … I was attacked by a Togorian. He … he wasn't satisfied with merely beating me bloody – he …"

Kila looked at her lover, feeling his anguish as if it had been her own. "Oh, Gods …," she murmured, nauseated as she realized the truth. "He … he …"

"He raped me," Qui-Gon said woodenly. "He held me down, he forced himself in, tearing, burning, clawing … Then he _laughed_."

Kila swiped away the tears that refused to be contained. "What … what do you want from me?" she asked huskily.

"I want you to love me – to be with me," Qui-Gon said. He sighed heavily. "Can you … do that? I need to know before … before."

"Force; you stupid male!" Kila said, sniffing loudly. "I _love_ you, old man! If this had happened to me, would you stop loving me?"

"Of course not," Qui-Gon said.

"Then why would I stop loving you because some filthy Sith creature tried to break you?" Kila shook her head, and then wrapped her arms around his waist. "_Look_ at me, Jinn!"

His head snapped up and Kila was shocked to see tears in his beautiful bright eyes. "You might be battered, but you're not broken," she said. "That _thing_ couldn't destroy who you are."

"And … who am I?" Qui-Gon asked slowly.

"You're Qui-Gon Jinn. The man I want to live with, fight with, make babies with." Kila kissed his lips softly. "I want to share your burdens, to tell you my troubles, to hear you call me a brat." She wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye. "I love you, my big Jedi," she added. "Together, we can get through anything."

"Force …," Qui-Gon mumbled, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on top of hers. "I love you so much, my little warrior."


	20. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER 20**

Kila tugged on her sleep shirt then called out to Qui-Gon; "Make us a pot of _kevas_, will you? I think we can both use it."

"All right," Qui-Gon called back.

She tied her hair back loosely with the leather cord she'd never given back then looked at her reflection in the mirror. While she would never be good-looking, she had to admit that her weight loss suited her – her clothes fit better and her back hurt less.

"Enough with the vanity, woman!" she scolded herself then made her way out of the fresher to join her betrothed. He looked … worn out but at peace. "The fresher's all yours," she told him.

He smiled slightly down at her. "Thank you," he replied softly, in the same subdued manner he'd had all day.

He turned his attention back to the pot of _kevas_ and Kila fiddled uneasily with the neckline of her sleep shirt. Despite their declarations earlier that day, they'd been tense around each other in a way they'd _never_ been before. "Do you … want me to go?" she asked.

"What?" Qui-Gon shook his head. "What makes you think that?"

"I just … I don't know what to say," Kila told her lover honestly. "I'm torn between wanting to kill Tyranus and … and making love to you till you pass out." She blushed at the bold declaration.

Qui-Gon gave her a full-blown grin at that. "I'd prefer you did the latter," he said with some of his old cheekiness. "With time, I'll come to terms with what happened to me – don't let your anger drive you to revenge."

"I'll try," Kila said. She went over to him. "Can I … hug you?"

"I'd like nothing better," Qui-Gon replied huskily.

Kila slipped her arms around his lean waist, and as his arms came around her, rested her head on his strong chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. She pressed a kiss into the skin of his chest. "I love you," she said.

She felt his lips on her head. "And I love you," he said, rocking her gently from side to side.

They remained like that for uncounted minutes then Qui-Gon let her go and busied himself with the _kevas_. He handed her one of the now full cups and gestured toward the living room. "After you, milady," he said.

She padded over to the settee and curled up against one of the arms, watching as Qui-Gon settled near her. Before today, she would have thought nothing of invading his space and demanding a kiss. But now …

Qui-Gon picked up a book and gave her another smile. Kila returned the smile then picked up her own book and feigned interest in the passages that she'd memorized a long time ago.

A hand landed on her ankle and made her start. She looked at the gentle fingers stroking her ankle to the placid bearded countenance of the man engrossed in his book. And, reassured by that simple affectionate gesture, she turned her attention back to her book.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon's large hand encircled Kila's almost delicate looking ankle and he sent an affectionate smile at the curly head bent over a book. He caressed the small bones uncertainly – he didn't want to seem clingy yet he also didn't want her to think he no longer desired her.

"Stop thinking so much," his lover said, leaning over and touching his face with a gentle hand. "What is it Yoda says? Mindful of the Living Force you must be."

Qui-Gon smiled at her imitation of the Master's oddly modulated voice. "I'm sorry," he said. "I knew telling you was going to be … difficult but I hadn't realized just _how_ difficult."

Kila's small fingers stroked his cheek. "I can't begin to know what you went through, but know this – I'm here for you. For cuddling, talking, or just sitting."

"And I love you for that," Qui-Gon assured her. "I'm going to have bad days as well as good, but I don't want the … rape to ruin our lives."

"Me either," Kila said, sliding along the settee to rest her head on Qui-Gon's upper arm. "That would mean _Tyranus_ has won, and I don't want that."

"Yes," Qui-Gon said, a little uneasy at the venom in his lover's voice as she pronounced the Sith Lord's name. There was a dark hatred swimming around her – an anger that she didn't want to admit to. She still couldn't seem to understand that anger itself did not lead to the Dark Side. It was when one gave one's self over to it that the darkness would dominate.

He got up suddenly and extended his hand to Kila. She took it and looked up at him, her lovely eyes searching his face anxiously. "What is it?"

"I believe it would do us good to meditate," Qui-Gon said. He was still feeling unsettled from this morning's revelations – and knew that Kila felt the same way.

Kila bit her lip. "Very well," she conceded reluctantly and sat down next to him. She gave a quick grin and patted one of his crossed legs. "You know; I _still_ can't do that."

Ah. Humor to deflect tension. He was familiar with Kila's avoidance tactics by now, and chose not to respond to the facetious comment. "Join me," he said instead, closing his eyes.

Kila sighed but fell silent as she synchronized her breathing with his. He found himself back at the gardens in Erith and was less than surprised. He'd been there many times in his meditations since his imprisonment – the pure contentment of the first time he'd been there with Kila was a powerful draw.

He watched as two Jedi strolled along – the big man with his arm around the small woman's shoulders. She was heavy with child and, although tired, radiated a quiet joy.

The woman – Kila, he realized – turned and put her arms around the man's waist, and then stretched up and caught his lips with her own. "I'm getting pretty tired, Qui-Gon," she told the man as the kiss ended.

The other Qui-Gon smiled down at Kila and lifted up his right hand to caress her cheek, a silver ring glinting on the middle finger. "I'll take you home, my love," he said.

Qui-Gon watched the couple walk slowly away and smiled. Kila … heavy with his child. He wanted that very much.

The gardens at Erith faded away and he opened his eyes, startled to find that several hours had passed in the real world. Next to him sat Kila, her own eyes closed as she breathed steadily in and out. A frown furrowed her brow and Qui-Gon could feel her anger and hatred – she was extremely vulnerable to the Dark Side now.

Dooku had been correct that hurting Qui-Gon would reach Kila more than a direct attack on her own person. He touched Kila's cheek and tried to project his own peace onto her – he was determined that Dooku would _not_ win over his daughter.

Within seconds, the frown on his lover's face eased off and the darkness ebbed away. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Thank you," she murmured, picking up his hand and pressing an affectionate kiss onto it. "Tyranus … he was trying to break through again. Does he really hate you so much that he's willing to recruit me into the Sith – just to hurt you?" she asked in bewilderment. "That's so … petty!"

Qui-Gon sighed, knowing that she deserved the truth. He was unsure, however, how she would handle a second shocking revelation in the same day. "It's not that he wishes to hurt me by bringing you into the Sith," he told her. "Although I'm sure it's a delightful bonus."

"Then what …?" Her eyes narrowed in on him. "What aren't you telling me, Qui-Gon?"

"He's your father." There. It was said and couldn't be unsaid.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

"My … father," Kila repeated slowly, surprised that she wasn't more surprised. She'd felt a strange sense of connection to the Sith ever since they'd first made contact. "He's … that's … he's my father."

A warm hand enclosed hers and drew her into an equally warm embrace. "Yes," Qui-Gon said, making no attempt to coddle her, for which she was absurdly grateful. "He told me shortly after he'd captured me and, although lies are part of the Sith way, I could tell he was telling the truth. He really seemed to love your mother but having to give her up … I believe that's where his disaffection for the Jedi way began."

"Tyranus … Dooku. And my mother. He _abandoned_ her," Kila got out. "The noble Jedi way," she mocked. "Forbid attachments, but you can use people like single-credit whores! How very special."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

"Kila … you know we're not all like that," Qui-Gon said, recalling with some guilt the few 'relationships' he'd had before Kila. He'd been completely upfront with those women, it was true, but had he still used them?

"And now … thirty four years later … he thinks he can worm his way into my head and my heart," Kila continued angrily, brushing over Qui-Gon's words. "I should have killed him when I was in his fortress."

Qui-Gon feared that she wouldn't hesitate if they met again. "Cold-blooded murder isn't part of you," he told her. "Dooku may have gone over to the Sith, and he may be trying to coerce you to join him … but only you can make that decision."

Kila sighed. "Maybe … Oh, Gods, why the kriff did you have to _tell_ me?" she exclaimed, getting up and pushing her hands through her hair in agitation.

"You _asked_ me – and I wasn't going to lie to you," Qui-Gon snapped, standing up also. "I know you've had a shock, but throwing a tantrum isn't going to do any good."

"A tantrum?" Kila's eyes narrowed to tiny slits and her fists clenched – for a second, Qui-Gon thought she might actually resort to violence. "I … I have to get out of here," she muttered, heading for the bedroom.

"Where are you going?" Qui-Gon really didn't want her to be alone in her current frame of mind.

"Just … not here." Kila emerged, dressed in her day clothes once more. As she passed Qui-Gon, she slipped her hand round his neck and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I just … I need to be alone for a while," she added softly. "And after the day you've had, I won't do you any good when I'm so angry and hurt."

"All right." Qui-Gon sighed, accepting the logic of her words. She wasn't exactly a calming presence or right now … or even an enjoyable one.

He watched as the door closed behind his lover and sighed, once again doubting whether he'd done the right thing by telling her the truth.

Somewhere in the distance, he heard malevolent laughter.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila made her way out of the Temple grounds, not certain where she was going but knowing that she didn't want to be anywhere near anything Jedi right now. As she made her way down the streets of Capitol City, the steady rain poured down – a perfect accompaniment to her mood.

As she passed a tavern, the sounds of a jizz wailer and noisy revelry caught her attention. She paused then made her way in and over to the bar. "A long Mavarian stout," she told the bartender.

He brushed past her, intent on serving the two beautiful blondes demanding his attention. She caught at his arm. "I won't ask again," she said calmly, resting her other hand casually on her hip.

She applied a little pressure to the scrawny man's arm and he winced. "Coming right up," he said.

"Thank you so much," Kila replied pleasantly. She took the tall glass from him and made her way over to an unoccupied corner. She curled up on the beaten-up yet surprisingly comfortable chair and sipped morosely at the stout.

A Sith Lord. Her _father_ was a Sith Lord. Her father was the man who'd kidnapped the man she loved – had had him beaten, tortured, had allowed him to be raped. She took a larger mouthful of the smooth stout and exhaled shakily. Gods … what was she supposed to do now? How could Qui-Gon still want to marry her, knowing how her blood was tainted?

"Well well … wha' brings a lovely girl like you to a place like this?" someone slurred, sitting down next to her with a thump.

"I came to have a drink," Kila said. "In solitude."

"Oh, don' be silly. If you wan' solitude you don' come to a _tavern_."

Kila found the man's logic hard to refute. "Maybe so, but I prefer solitude to sitting with you."

"Well, that's real unfriendly," the man said. A hand slipped onto her knee then slithered its way up. "I'm only tryin' to be nice."

"Try somewhere else," Kila said shortly, her hand tightening around her glass. "And take your hand off me before I break it."

"_C'mon_; you don' mean that!" The man squeezed her thigh for emphasis. "You're alone, I'm alone – wha' say we go back to mine and get to know each other better?"

"Hey, Riva! Over here!" another man called.

Kila's nuisance looked at the source of the noise. "Well, seems I've found myself friendlier company. Las' chance."

Kila snorted. "In your lonely, pathetic dreams."

The man wobbled away – she distinctly heard his friend say, "Are you _insane_ … or just suicidal? That was a Jedi you were messing with!"

"Sithspit," the nuisance got out. "She so cute – who woulda _known_ it?"

That comment made Kila smile – it was probably the first time anyone, besides Qui-Gon, had ever found her attractive. She picked up the glass of stout once more and traced a bead of condensation before snuggling back into the cushioned chair.

One of the jizz wailer's band sent her a wave and blew her a kiss – Kila recognized him as one of the regulars from Dex's. She waved back but looked back down at her glass, not in the mood for conversation right now.

_My father, the Sith Lord._

It sounded like the title of a bad holo-novel.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Darth Tyranus chuckled to himself as he heard his daughter's wry wit – he certainly hoped that she'd keep that sarcasm when she became his apprentice!

The door to his inner sanctum opened and his latest bed partner strolled in. He hadn't had a 'lover' since Reean Marik, and he didn't care to. "May I join you?" the woman inquired, sitting down next to him and stroking his face.

"Be my guest," Tyranus replied, gracing her with a slight smile. A little older than some of his bed partners, her maturity gifted her with wisdom, grace, patience. She wanted what he wanted – an end to the Republic – and acted as his eyes and ears on Coruscant.

The slim Chandrila woman studied him intently. "Your daughter is betrothed to Master Jinn," she said almost casually.

"I'm aware of that," Tyranus said. "He won't turn, much to my regret – he's as firmly entrenched in the Light as I am in the Dark – but my daughter's side is still unknown." He chuckled. "She seems to have learned the truth about her heritage – and is _not _happy about that."

"It _will_ make reaching her more difficult," he was advised.

"Yes," Tyranus said thoughtfully. "Difficult, but not impossible. This is important to me – my daughter should be by my side. This is where she belongs."

"Then, My Lord, you shall make it happen," the Chandrila said. "You are one of the most powerful Force users I've ever encountered – if you can't do it, no-one can."

Tyranus flashed his bed-warmer a smirk. "You'd think I'd be above such blatant flattery, but I'm not," he said with a rare flash of affection. He did not love her – had loved no-one since Reean – but he _did_ like her. Which was more than could be said for most of the women he'd bedded.

The woman smirked back, an odd gesture on such a serene-looking countenance. "I've found that few males are above blatant flattery … My Lord," she teased, sliding one hand almost coyly down his chest and belly to cup his genitals.

She squeezed and Tyranus growled low in his throat, and then pushed the woman down onto her back before settling his long frame on hers. "Uppity smart-mouthed wench – you insult a Sith Lord," he challenged.

She moaned as he ground himself against her. "Indeed … My Lord."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila held up her empty glass to the waitress droid. "Another one," she said, uncaring of the slight slur in her voice that indicated her intoxication. The last time she'd gotten this drunk, she'd gone and 'claimed' Qui-Gon – who knew what she'd have the courage to do this time?

Seducing him seemed like a very good idea. She pictured his handsome features, the long lean body, the incredibly soft hair that felt like silk when running her fingers through it … She shivered, almost able to feel his lips working on her throat, her neck. What would it feel like to have those lips on rather more sensitive spots; her breasts, her belly, her thighs, her …?

She took a deep breath and fanned her face rapidly – it probably wasn't a good idea to fantasize about Qui-Gon Jinn in such a public place.

The waitress droid brought over another glass of the stout. Kila picked it up and sipped it, heedless of the fact that she was beginning to feel a little sick.

A Sith … She was related to a Sith.

She took a hasty gulp of the stout, not wanting to think about it anymore, and looked up as she heard a scuffle.

"You've had three Keruvian _blinis_," the bartender – a new one – was telling someone. "And I don't know you. No-one I don't know gets more than three on tab. You want a _zlinth_ juice or something – fine. But _no more booze_."

"Well, krank _you_ … jus' krank you."

"Sorry – you're not my type," the bartender returned.

"Fine! See 'f I ever come back t' _this_ place again." The man wobbled out in high dudgeon.

Kila got up and went over to the bartender. "You don't know me and I've had five glasses of stout. In fact, I'd like to switch to the Keruvian _blinis_."

"Of course; no problem," the bartender told her quickly – evidently word had spread about her being a Jedi. Not wholly accurate but if it got people to leave her alone – _and_ give her free alcohol – who was she to complain?

He handed her a small glass of the amber-colored liquid and she knocked it back in one gulp. "Smooth," she gasped sarcastically, her eyes tearing up and her throat burning. "Another one, please."

The bartender poured the _blinis_ and Kila took a more measured sip this time. "Are you all right, miss?" he asked. "We don't get too many Jedi in here – I always thought you didn't drink."

"Jedi are just like anyone else," Kila said. "Some drink, some don't. Some love, some don't."

"Well …," the bartender said with a grin, "I certainly know you drink. Do you love, also?"

Startled, Kila squinted at him. Around Padmé's age or a little younger, he had a certain youthful charm and unassailable confidence. "Are you coming on to me?" she blurted out.

"Absolutely," the bartender replied. "Is it working?"

Kila laughed genuinely at his boldness. "No," she told him and waved her right arm somewhere in his vicinity.

"Oh, Sithspit!" The young man clasped his hands to his heart. "Oh … I'll forever mourn as I pine for you, my love," he told her dramatically.

"Now why don't I believe you?" Kila asked lightly, finishing off her _blinis_ – that second glass had gone down much easier than the first.

"Because you're a smart and perceptive woman," the man told her. He touched her hand briefly. "You know; you won't solve your problems with a bottle," he added.

"I know," Kila said, touched by his concern. "I just … need a temporary escape."

"Well … have something to eat at least. If you're going to be sick, you'll need something inside of you."

"All right," Kila said. "What can you recommend?"


	21. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER 21**

Kila stumbled along the hallways, humming slightly off key and digging in her pockets for her key – to no avail. "Ahh, Sithspit," she cursed. Then brightened as she realized that she was currently outside Qui-Gon's apartment. It would be much easier to seduce him if they were in the same room, right?

She searched her pockets again – this time for the key to her betrothed's apartment. "Oh, phoo!" she exclaimed when that search came up empty also. She giggled then leaned on Qui-Gon's doorbell, humming a rather risqué song the jizz wailer had performed that night.

The door opened and Qui-Gon's powerful frame filled the doorway.

"Take me; I'm yours!" she warbled off-key, slinging an arm around the man's neck and planting a kiss on his lips.

"Are you drunk?" Qui-Gon asked, pulling her into the apartment quickly and shutting the door.

"_No_!" Kila laughed her scorn of that notion then crooked her finger to him. "I'm lyin'," she confessed. "I am _so_ drunk right now." She gazed up at him. "You are so sexy – but I like you better without your shirt." She began unbuttoning said shirt, humming her approval as several inches of chest were bared.

Qui-Gon grasped her hands and shook his head, a small smile on those … _very_ nice lips. "You need to go to bed," he said.

"Oh, yeah," Kila replied enthusiastically and tugged at Qui-Gon's hands. "Well, I'm not goin' alone," she pouted when he didn't move. "I been thinkin' about it – and drinkin'." That struck her as comical and she giggled. "Thinkin' and drinkin' … drinkin' and thinkin' …" She shook her head, disoriented. "Anyway; what was I sayin'?"

"You were saying that you need to go to sleep," Qui-Gon told her.

"Mmm." Kila yawned then frowned. Something was missing from what he'd just said, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Her stomach rolled and she groaned. "Uhh … I think I'm going to be sick," she told her betrothed.

With a speed one didn't often see in 70 year old humans, Qui-Gon ushered her into the fresher, and then held her gently as she retched into the basin.

"Uh," she gasped, leaning back into Qui-Gon's warm embrace. "I think I brought up a lung there."

She distinctly felt his quiet chuckle before his soft lips caressed her neck. "Lovely image there – thank you for sharing," he said sarcastically.

"You're welcome," Kila got out as her stomach churned once more. "Oh, khest," she groaned, her head dropping once more to the basin.

As she brought up what felt like every meal she'd ever had, she was aware of Qui-Gon holding her hair back, stroking her neck with a cold damp cloth. "Now, _that's_ love," she muttered, running some cool water and splashing her face and neck with it.

"Better?" Qui-Gon brushed his knuckles over her flushed cheeks.

"Uh … not sure yet," Kila said. She made a few slow steps – her stomach churned, but she no longer felt so nauseated; just empty. Still drunk, but a little more clear-headed, she patted Qui-Gon's cheek. "I've lost my keys," she told him. "Have you got the spare I gave you?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon said, "but I'd rather you stayed here tonight – just in case."

"I'm all right," Kila protested, her wobbling gait making her a liar.

"You've had so much _blinis_ that if I were to strike a light, I'd set you on fire," Qui-Gon said. "I'd feel better if you stayed where I can keep an eye on you."

Kila looked up at his sweet face, those steady blue eyes and sighed. "Very well," she conceded. It wasn't like she wanted to go home anyway. She put her hand to her aching stomach, glad that she'd allowed that bartender to feed her – it would have been so much worse on an empty stomach.

She made her way rather unsteadily to the kitchen and got herself a glass of tepid water. She drank it slowly, trying to get rid of the nasty acidic aftertaste in her mouth. Then she yawned again, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. "I'm going to go to bed," she told her lover.

"All right," Qui-Gon said slowly.

"It'd be easier for you to keep an eye on me if we're in the same room," Kila said, watching his handsome face.

"Yes," Qui-Gon said.

She grinned at his visible relief. "You know; you wouldn't be taking advantage of me if we made love," she told him. "Don't worry, though – I'm not up to it."

Qui-Gon smiled at her then brushed a kiss over her forehead. "Don't sleep in your clothes," he told her. "You're going to feel bad enough as it is tomorrow morning."

"Uh … don't remind me," Kila groaned, already feeling the headache coming on. She brushed a kiss on his cheek. "I'll … go get changed," she said and made her way to his bedroom.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon smiled as his lover stumbled slightly on her way to his bedroom, still clutching on to her glass of water. Although intoxication was never a good way to handle one's problems, she was such an endearingly muddled mess right now.

He shook his head and yawned. He'd been sleeping when Kila had erupted into his apartment – it was time to head back to bed.

He walked into his bedroom and stopped short. Draped diagonally across his bed was his betrothed, out cold. She'd managed to get her pants off, but was still wearing her shirt and … one shoe. She was snoring slightly and mumbling to herself.

He chuckled and shook his head once more. There was evidently something wrong with him because he found her incredibly cute right now. He put his hand to her shoulder and shook it. "Kila."

She twitched and frowned but didn't move.

Qui-Gon sighed and put his arms around her, intent on moving her to one side. The woman sighed and stretched, pushing her breasts into his chest. Then her eyes opened and she smiled lazily at him. "You wanna press your lumps against mine?" she asked him in Huttese, her hands slipping inside his shirt and stroking the lean muscles of his chest. She kicked off her remaining shoe then dipped her head and kissed her way down his throat, to nuzzle into his chest.

She flicked delicately at a nipple with her tongue – his heart pounded and he forced himself to pull away from his suddenly amorous betrothed. "Ah, not tonight," he told her. "You need to rest."

His libido was calling him all sorts of idiot, and evidently Kila felt the same way. "Spoilsport," she groused. She sighed and rolled onto her side, presenting him with a mouth-watering view of her cleavage as the action pushed her full breasts together. "Well … night-night."

And, with that, her eyes closed once more.

To the accompaniment of her light snoring, Qui-Gon got back into bed, careful to keep some distance between him and Kila. The first time that they made love was _not_ going to be when she was drunk!

Kila mumbled something and turned over once more. Now her back was to him and he was presented with the curve of her hip and the rounded swells of her behind. And his entirely male appreciation for her figure warred with the gentleman that wanted their first time together to be special.

Groaning softly, he turned away from temptation and closed his eyes, seeking out the support of the Force.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Bright light pierced her eyelids and some evil being hammered at the inside of her skull. And her mouth tasted like she hadn't cleaned it in days.

Groaning, Kila cracked open an eyelid then slammed it shut as the morning sun glared through the window.

"Good morning," her betrothed said softly.

"Ahh … mornin'," Kila got out. "What did I _drink_ last night?" she moaned as her head pounded.

"I'm not sure exactly, but I could definitely smell Keruvian _blinis_ on your breath," Qui-Gon told her. She heard his footsteps then the clank of a glass on a serving platter. "When you're ready, I'll get you some crackers for your stomach."

"Thanks," Kila muttered. She winced as the hammering in her skull increased. "Oh, just kill me now."

Somehow she just _knew_ Qui-Gon was fighting the urge to laugh. "Fine; laugh at my misery," she flung at him.

"Like you wouldn't laugh if our positions were reversed?" her betrothed shot back.

"Ugh." Kila flapped a hand at him. He was perfectly correct of course, but she was in no condition for one of their battles of wits. "Go away and leave me to my suffering, you horrible old man."

"Very well." Qui-Gon walked away – she heard the squeak as the door opened then jumped when it shut with a loud bang.

The jump made her stomach roll and she nearly fell out of the bed in her eagerness to reach the fresher. She fell to her knees in front of the bath and retched helplessly, bringing up little but foul-tasting stomach acid.

Qui-Gon appeared beside her and offered her a cold wet cloth into which she buried her face gladly. "Better?" he asked mildly.

Kila glared up into his dancing blue eyes. "If I ever get off this floor …," she promised, "… look out."

Qui-Gon grinned down at her, dimples on full – it was almost worth feeling this bad to be on the receiving end of that impish grin. "So … are you going to sit here all day or do you think you could manage a cup of _karran_ tea?" he asked.

The _karran_ herb contained a natural anti-nausea property and was therefore very popular with pregnant women _and_ people suffering from hangovers. Kila paused and considered. "I can try," she said. She rolled over and got onto her feet with all the grace of a newborn bantha cub. "A little help here?" she asked as her legs wobbled.

Qui-Gon swept her up into his arms and carried her out of the fresher.

"This wasn't exactly what I had in mind," she pointed out, trying to ignore the tempting length of throat so near her lips right now.

Qui-Gon chuckled. "Purely in the interest of saving time of course," he said blandly.

"Of course," Kila shot back sarcastically. She allowed him to settle her on the settee then watched him walk away into the kitchen, giving her a lovely view of his rear end. _Sigh._

Hmm; she _had_ to be feeling better if she was able to admire Qui-Gon's firm rear end once more.

"Kila?"

She jumped out of her behind-induced reverie and looked up at her betrothed as he held out a mug filled with some steaming liquid to her. "Thank you," she murmured then reared away when the smell hit her nostrils. "Ohhh … what're you _giving_ to me?" she squealed, appalled.

"It tastes better than it smells," Qui-Gon told her.

"It would _have_ to," Kila murmured in revulsion. She pinched her nose shut, stared at the foul concoction for several seconds, and then took a large gulp of the stuff before her courage deserted her.

A strange mélange of tastes hit her tongue – spicy, sweet, bitter, dry … yet not unpleasant. "Not bad," she muttered, hesitant to unblock her nose. She had the feeling that deadening her sense of smell had been the primary cause of the just-palatable taste.

It did, however, sooth her rolling stomach. "Kriff; this stuff is good!" she said.

"Well, drink up," Qui-Gon said, setting a small plate of wafer-thin crackers next to her. He looked at his wrist chrono and sighed. "I have to go," he said. "I have a session with Healer Janna and Master Yoda will be expecting you soon."

"What?" Kila spluttered on her tea. "My head feels like it's going to fall off – no way in the galaxy can I train today!"

"I'm not your father, Kila," Qui-Gon said, tying up his bootlace. "If you can't train today then don't. But you should at least do Master Yoda the courtesy of telling him so in person."

"That's right; you're _not_ my father," Kila said, stung at the scolding tone. "So don't treat me like a spoiled brat who's stamping her feet for a new toy."

Qui-Gon sighed. "I have to go," he said. "I refuse to stand here and argue with you over something so inconsequential." And with that he was gone.

Kila sighed and sipped the noxious brew. What in the Sith hells had just happened there? One minute, he'd been teasing her about her hangover, the next he was acting like a disapproving parent.

Then she realized what he'd said before the bit about Yoda. Today's session was likely to be hard on him after yesterday's confession. And she'd been so caught up in her own, self-inflicted, misery that she hadn't even remembered!

She stood up, hangover pushed to one side, and whipped off her clothes before heading into the fresher for a _very_ fast sonic. She struggled back into her clothes, brushed her teeth, and dragged her hair back into an untidy bun.

Less than ten minutes after Qui-Gon had left, she jogged out of his apartment, intent on reaching him before he got to Janna's. He didn't deserve to have that stupid petty quarrel hanging over him when dealing with his trauma.

She spied his distinctive silver hair just as he was about to go into the Healer's office. "Qui-Gon!"

He turned and raised his eyebrows at her unruly state. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry," Kila blurted out. "I _was_ behaving like a brat and … I should have been more considerate." She went over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, and then kissed his cheek. "Are we all right?" she added, tilting her head backward to look into his eyes.

Qui-Gon smiled down at her. "We're more than all right," he told her. "I said that I would have good days and bad days – I'm sorry I took it out on you." He dipped his handsome head and caressed her lips sweetly with his. "I _do_ love you – even when you're hung over and vomiting up all your internal organs." His eyes twinkled.

Kila had to laugh at that. "Funny man," she retorted, returning the sweet kiss. "Well," she sighed, "I'd better go and speak with Yoda. Do you … want me to come back here?"

Qui-Gon sighed. "I'd … rather you didn't," he said, sounding uncomfortable. "Sorry."

"Don't worry," Kila said, not liking the vulnerability her big Jedi was currently showing. "I told you that I'm here for you. And I meant it … despite the less than stellar attempt I made yesterday."

"You received two shocking pieces of news in a very short space of time," Qui-Gon said, taking his turn to be the comforter. "You wouldn't have been human if you hadn't reacted."

Kila chuckled. "Quite a pair we make," she said. "How about this? We stop apologizing for being human, but we also try harder not to shut each other out."

Qui-Gon slipped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "That sounds good to me," he said. Then he let go of her. "Now, go and clean up … you look like something that's been in a sarlacc pit for a generation!"

"Remind me why I love you so much?" Kila grumbled, glaring at her betrothed.

"Because you're a sweet, wonderful woman who likes old worn out Jedi," Qui-Gon deadpanned.

Kila clicked her fingers. "_That's_ why!" she chuckled then stretched up to catch his lips with hers one more time. "And now I'm really going," she added, grinning as she saw Healer Janna appear, all four arms folded as she waited for Qui-Gon.

"All right." Qui-Gon tucked some strands of hair behind Kila's ear. "Be good."

"Aren't I always?" Kila said to his broad back. He stilled and she could almost _feel_ him ache to answer that parting shot. She chuckled and made her way down the corridor.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Half an hour later, freshly showered and in clean clothes, Kila made her way out of her own apartment and along the network of corridors interlinking the many buildings that formed the Jedi complex.

She entered the main training salle and saw Yoda spinning and leaping through the air, practicing his lightsaber technique against training remotes. "Good morning, Master," she said.

"Greet you I do, young Kila," the little Jedi said, not even looking out of breath as the many remotes tried – and failed – to attack him. "A training saber get you and practice your movements you will."

Kila sighed. "I only came to tell you that I can't train today – I don't feel up to it."

Yoda pressed a button and the remotes lowered to the floor. "Unwell you are?"

Kila shrugged her shoulders. "It's … self-inflicted but yes," she said. Part of her wanted to confide in her littlest friend about her relationship to Tyranus, but the bigger part of her feared that he wouldn't wish to teach her any longer – might in fact seek her expulsion from the Order.

"Hmpf." Yoda hobbled over to her and looked up at her intently. "To talk do you wish?"

"No," Kila said. She didn't want to talk about the Sith or about what had happened to Qui-Gon thanks to that Sith. "Maybe … another time," she suggested, regretting her brusque dismissal. "I'm not ready yet."

Yoda tapped her leg with his gimer stick. "Confused, angry and ashamed you are," he said. "Much good meditation will do you. Join me you will?"

"Oh! Aah …" Kila fidgeted uncertainly. She hadn't meditated for days now, fearful that Tyranus – she refused to think of that Sith thing as her father – might be able to reach her. Then she looked down at the tiny Master. He was one of the most powerful Force users in the written history of the Jedi – surely Tyranus wouldn't try anything with Yoda beside her! "All right," she acquiesced.

Yoda patted her leg again. "Good," he said. He hobbled over to his hover chair. "Come. To the gardens we will go – quiet, beautiful and soothing they are."

Kila followed her little Master obediently then flung her hand over her eyes when the bright sunshine greeted her. "Ow …," she moaned.

Yoda chortled then got out of his hover chair and sat on the grass under a tree. He crossed his tiny legs then patted the ground near him. "Sit here you will," he instructed her.

Kila sat down and crossed her legs – she felt them cramp up almost immediately and opted to stretch out instead. She closed her eyes and allowed Yoda's voice to lull her into a proper meditative state.

She found herself in a gray … nothingness. And even gray wasn't the right word to describe the lack of everything. She could see nothing, hear nothing … could feel nothing but the thumping of her own heart.

She panicked at such … nothingness and flailed wildly, trying to find something – _anything_ – to hold onto her.

"Be calm, at ease," she heard Yoda say. "Unusual this Force experience is not, but unprepared for it you are. Happens this experience usually does to more experienced Padawans."

He sounded rather worried, Kila realized. "So … what do I do?"

"In the gray you walk, literally," Yoda explained. "A battle between the Light and the Dark you face. Strong you must be to resist the lure of the Dark."

"I want to," Kila said, wondering if Tyranus was laughing somewhere right now. "Is the Dark Side so much stronger?"

"No," Yoda said, "but easier, more seductive it is. Make the choice only you can, but guide you, help you and protect you we can. Let us, you will?"

Kila saw a small light and reached her hand out to touch it. It bobbed away and she growled in frustration. She reached her hand out once more – the light bobbed away once more. Then she sighed. "I _do_ need help," she admitted.

Suddenly the small light expanded all round her, filling her with a peace she hadn't known since before Qui-Gon's disappearance so many weeks ago.

She opened her eyes and found Yoda sitting in her lap, holding her hand in both his tiny ones. "Not yet won, the battle is," he said. "But strong you are – trust in yourself you must that follow your father you will continue to refuse."

Kila gaped at the little Jedi. "How … how did you know?" she croaked out.

"Came to me did Obi-Wan many weeks ago," said Yoda. "Concerned he was about the darkness in you. When meditation you and I shared, contact with Tyranus I made. Suspected I did his connection to you, but uncertain I was until last night. Revealed to me by the Force the truth was."

"Oh." Kila sucked in her bottom lip. "So … what happens now? Will I have to … leave?"

"Your father you are not." Yoda squeezed her hand. "Punish the child for the sins of the father we would not. But our help you will need until stronger you are in the Force. Anger, fear … make you vulnerable they do. To let go you must learn."

"Easier said than done," Kila mumbled. After what that Sith had done to Qui-Gon …

"Easy it is _not_," Yoda said. "Faith in you I have – faith you will come to share."

Kila felt stupid tears spring to her eyes, and wrapped her other hand gently around Yoda's tiny hands. "I … don't know what to say," she said. "Thank you is poor and inadequate, but …"

"Then nothing you shall say," Yoda said, releasing her hands and hopping off her lap. "Study hard you will – become a Healer you shall. Faith!" He whacked her knee with his gimer stick for emphasis. "Faith you must have."


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22**

**Two weeks later:**

Kila opened her eyes and stretched with a contented sigh. A long powerful arm was wrapped around her waist, snuggling her in close – she reveled in the warmth of Qui-Gon's big body, much as a feline revels in the warmth of a fire. "Good morning," the man murmured.

"Good morning," Kila replied. When they had first begun sharing a bed ten days earlier she had been very embarrassed by the way they'd seemed to gravitate naturally toward each other in sleep and had done her best to keep away – to no avail.

Then, last night, as they'd settled in, Qui-Gon had wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him. "We always end up like this," he'd said. "Why fight it?"

The man made a lot of sense.

For all intents and purposes, they were now living together. Kila had given up her apartment and had moved into Qui-Gon's larger one. Even that was only temporary, however. They had decided to move out of the Jedi complex once they were married and had begun looking for a small house in the vicinity – his apartment would not be big enough once they began their family.

She turned over and met Qui-Gon's sleepy blue eyes. "So … what's on the agenda for today?" she asked.

"There are a couple more houses I'd like us to look at," her betrothed answered. "Then I have a meeting with the Council – I'm ready to go back out on missions."

"Oh," Kila murmured. She slipped an arm around his waist and pressed her face into his bare chest. "I'm … not sure how I feel about that," she offered in a small voice.

"It's time," Qui-Gon said, not bothering to offer any meaningless platitudes, for which she was grateful. "I'm fully healed physically and am well on the way to healing mentally and emotionally."

"I know," Kila mumbled into his chest. "Doesn't mean I won't worry, though."

"I realize that, and I love you for it." Qui-Gon stretched against her. "Anyway; tonight, I want to take you out to dinner."

"Oh, very nice," Kila said around a yawn. "What's the occasion?"

Qui-Gon lifted her chin up and looked into her eyes. "Did you think I would let your nameday pass without acknowledgment?" he said affectionately. "I'm not rich, but I can take you out to dinner and treat you like the fine lady you are."

Kila smiled at him and stretched upward to kiss him. "And I'll let you too," she told him, and then hesitated. "Nowhere too fancy, though – I don't have anything really elegant."

A mischievous twinkle entered Qui-Gon's eye and he said; "And that's where Obi-Wan and Padmé Kenobi come in. They've clubbed together for your nameday present – Padmé will bring it over for you later today." He returned Kila's soft kiss. "I don't know what the dress looks like but Padmé has warned me to keep a tight hold on you tonight," he added mischievously.

"I don't know whether to be pleased or worried," Kila said. Padmé firmly believed that Kila should wear things that displayed her 'assets' – Kila was more inclined to cover up from neck to ankle.

"Be pleased," Qui-Gon said. "Padmé would never buy anything tawdry – she is another fine lady."

"Well … all right then," Kila said, still a little doubtful but trusting Qui-Gon's judgment. She sighed and pushed away from his lean chest with a small groan. "I could do with some caf," she added. "_Kevas_ for you?"

"All right," Qui-Gon said.

Kila got out of the warm bed and pattered into the kitchen in her bare feet and switched on the heating unit. As the water boiled, she hummed an upbeat Nubian song that was currently very popular and allowed her mind to drift back over the last ten days.

She was very happy living with Qui-Gon once she'd made the adjustment. Living with a man – even without any physical intimacy – was a bigger adjustment than she'd expected but they were beginning to get accustomed to each other's little quirks.

Kila was a better cook than Qui-Gon, but he was naturally tidier than her. It therefore seemed logical for her to handle the cooking while he took care of the cleaning. They both loathed ironing and took full advantage of the laundry facilities on offer here at the Temple.

Of course; once they moved out after the wedding, those facilities would no longer be available to them and they would have to fight it out. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, Kila mused with a wicked grin, remembering the wrestling match they'd gotten into last week.

Qui-Gon's greater body mass – and superior skills – had enabled him to gain the upper hand very quickly. Until Kila had found that his ribs were extremely ticklish. The wrestling had soon degenerated into a childish tickle-fest, with Qui-Gon rendered nearly helpless with laughter and Kila stretched out on top of him.

Then the laughter had died away as they'd realized just _how_ intimately they were plastered together. She had immediately captured his lips with her own and kissed him deeply, passionately, her hands exploring his lean bare torso, caressing his pants-covered rear, fingers digging into his firm rump.

Only the fact that they were in one of the training salles had stopped her from giving herself completely to him and by the time he had returned from yet another Council meeting, she'd lost her courage.

She jumped when a warm pair of hands landed on her waist, and a nose nuzzled through her hair. Soft lips caressed the nape of her neck and she sighed happily. "Happy nameday, my love," Qui-Gon said, resting his chin on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Mmm," Kila mumbled, startled anew at how her youthful dreams had actually come true. She was no longer a slave, and a handsome man loved her, was going to marry her, give her love, a home and babies. He wasn't a prince, of course – more like a noble warrior king from ancient times …

"What is it?" Qui-Gon murmured into her neck.

"Nothing," Kila said, pouring the water for her caf and his _kevas_. "I'm just … happy."

"Well, that's good," Qui-Gon said. "I know I am."

She turned in his embrace and handed him his _kevas_. "Wrap your lips around that," she said.

A mischievous grin touched his features. "I can think of much _sweeter_ things for my lips," he said, dipping his head and capturing her bottom lip between his teeth. He ran the tip of his tongue along her teeth – she opened up without any hesitation and let him in.

Kila dimly heard a crack and crash as the cups fell to the floor, but she was far too aware of Qui-Gon's lips, his tongue, his taste as he devoured her mouth like a starving man.

With a small groan of desire that only inflamed her further, Qui-Gon slipped his hands under her sleep shirt to caress her waist, her back, the outsides of her unfettered breasts. He brushed his roughened fingertips gently over the scar on her upper body before traveling back down to cup her breasts, thumbs toying with the now firm nipples.

Kila squeaked upon that first pass of his thumbs then realized that it was a good sensation. This was the first time he'd felt her breasts without the sturdy support garment she usually wore – his hands felt so much warmer, her body so much more responsive.

He let go of her lips long enough to finger the top button of her shirt and murmured; "May I?"

"I … all right," Kila said nervously. She loved Qui-Gon, desired him, trusted him – but she had never been exposed thus. It was more than a little unnerving.

The man unbuttoned her shirt and slipped it gently off her shoulders, leaving her clad only in her panties. Her arms flew up instinctually to cross over her breasts, but Qui-Gon caught them and held her hands as his blue eyes took in her half-nude trembling body.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured huskily then dropped to his knees and buried his face in the lately reduced swell of her belly, his soft lips kissing along the brutal scar inflicted by Gardulla's thugs.

Kila gasped at the sweet caress and slipped her hands into his hair to hold him there, her fingers slipping through the long silken strands and massaging his scalp. "So are you," she told his handsome silver head, feeling her unease dissipate somewhat. He was sweet, gentle, undemanding. And, _Force_, did he have nice lips!

After several more blissful seconds, Kila lifted his head up from her stomach, wanting to share in the caresses. He smiled up at her, kissed the heavy underside of each breast, and then got back up.

He slipped his thumbs into the waistband of his sleep pants then tugged them down his long, long legs. Now he too was clad only in a pair of shorts that hugged his firm behind and did nothing to hide his arousal.

Kila had seen men naked before – Gardulla had employed males of varying species as dancers, and she'd seen Qui-Gon nude that day they'd rescued from the Sith. But … there was something different about the idea of Qui-Gon deliberately disrobing just for her. It was special, it was intimate.

And she was afraid once more. "Oh, Gods," she muttered. "Am I going to have to get drunk on our wedding night to be able to make love to you?" she said in self-disgust.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Knowing that the moment was well and truly over, Qui-Gon dropped a gentle kiss onto his lover's lips and handed her her shirt before pulling his pants back on. "If we don't make love on our wedding night, we don't make love," he said gently. "Besides, there's much more to making love than my entering you. Every kiss, every caress – even those cheeky slaps to my behind – they all show me how much you love me; desire me." He saw Kila frown doubtfully as she buttoned up her shirt. "Believe me," he added forcefully. "I count myself a very fortunate man to have won your funny, warm heart."

Kila looked up at him and sighed. "I'm sorry," she murmured, yanking angrily at her shirt. Then her gaze dropped to the floor. "Oh, khest!"

"What?" Qui-Gon followed her gaze and found a pool of commingled black and green liquids surrounding smashed pieces of crockery. "And you think you're passionless, frigid?" he teased gently. "I'd wager you don't even remember dropping those cups!"

Kila frowned thoughtfully then giggled in delight. "You know something? You're perfectly right!" she admitted.

"Well, of course," Qui-Gon said. "Just keep in mind that I'm always right, and life will be so much easier for you."

Kila punched him in the shoulder. "In your dreams you're always right," she teased. "Only in your dreams." She sighed and went to grab a wet washcloth then quickly and efficiently dealt with the mess. She threw the broken cups in the trash compactor then washed her hands off.

Then she came back over to Qui-Gon and wrapped her arms around his waist. "What time is our first house-viewing?"

Qui-Gon looked over at the wall chrono. "In about an hour," he said.

"Mmm. I suppose we should get dressed and have some breakfast," Kila said into his chest.

He dropped a kiss onto her curly head. "I suppose so," he replied, putting his own arms around her shoulders.

He felt her smile against his chest. "Or we could just spend the day _here_," she suggested, one of her hands wandering downward to caress his rear end.

"As tempting as that thought is, we can't act like hormonal adolescents all the time," Qui-Gon said.

"But you're so _good_ at it," Kila said with an impish grin.

Qui-Gon chuckled at that. "Thank you … I think." With a regretful sigh, he leaned back from his lover and kissed her forehead. "Anyway; how about I make the drinks? Your hands don't seem to be too steady right now."

He yelped when she pinched his behind sharply – he couldn't believe he'd forgotten where her hands were. "Horrible old man," Kila giggled before stepping backward. "Anyway; I think I'll step into the fresher while you make the drinks – I feel like a Huttlet's chew-toy."

Qui-Gon shook his head with a small smile – she certainly had a way with words. "Well, you don't _look_ like one," he told her, viewing the untidy curls, pink cheeks, kiss-swollen lips and curvy body in front of him.

Personally, he could have looked at her all day.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Several hours later; Kila sat next to her betrothed as they filled out the datapad for their application to rent. The second house they'd viewed had been _it_ – the one. Kila had been able to see herself and Qui-Gon – and a couple of small children – living there.

It was older than a lot of the properties in Capitol City and the owners were having trouble selling it, so had decided to rent it out. Kila liked older houses, however, and so did Qui-Gon – this quaint old stone building suited their tastes much better than the permacrete and plexiglass of the other properties.

"Date of birth?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Clever," Kila retorted sarcastically, squeezing his knee with her unoccupied hand.

They affixed their thumbprints to the completed form then Qui-Gon downloaded it to the agent's com. "It's done," he said. "We have to go through the approvals process, but I don't foresee any problems."

"Oh, good." Kila laughed then saw the time, and her face fell. "You'd better go – you've got that meeting in a few minutes."

"All right," Qui-Gon said then lifted up her chin to look into her eyes. "This is who I am, my love – being a Jedi isn't just a job, it's a way of life. Would you have me be any different?"

Kila sighed. "Oh, do you have to be so kriffing _logical_ all the time? It makes it really hard to argue with you." She slipped her hand around his neck and kissed him swiftly. "All right; go."

"I shouldn't be too long," Qui-Gon said and pulled on his outer tunic. "And Padmé will be here soon – she can sympathize with you about the many pitfalls of loving a Jedi."

Kila giggled softly. "Even with the pitfalls, it's _so_ worth it," she said. "I wouldn't change a thing."

Qui-Gon smiled – that smile that made his eyes crinkle and did all manner of strange things to Kila's heart rate. "Nor would I," he said. He leaned down and kissed her sweetly. "And now I really must go." He headed for the front door.

"Mmm." Kila licked her lips. "Kissing me keeps you out of a whole galaxy of trouble, you know that?"

"Really?" The man strolled back over, scooped her up against him and fit his lips to hers once more in a kiss that was so far from sweet … It was passionate, primal, carnal. He set her down on her now wobbly legs and winked. "That's very good to know," he said.

And, with that, he strolled out of their apartment leaving Kila breathless, aroused and flustered. "Horrible old man," she muttered.

A knock on the door made her start, and she realized that she'd been staring at the door like an idiot for several minutes. She went over and opened it, to find Padmé … At least she _thought_ it was Padmé – it was hard to tell behind the enormous garment bag.

"Happy nameday, Kila!" Padmé said. She strolled into the apartment and deposited the garment bag on the settee before turning back to hug Kila.

"Oh, thanks," Kila said, sounding vague even to her own ears.

Padmé chuckled. "And now I know why Master Jinn was looking so smug when I bumped into him just now."

"What?"

"Well, if those ruby-red lips and dazed expression are anything to go by …," Padmé teased.

Kila fingered her throbbing lips then chuckled. "You were right by the way," she said.

"Of course." Padmé nodded then frowned. "What was I right about?"

"Qui-Gon. His lips _are_ nice. And he really, _really_ knows how to use them."

Padmé giggled like a schoolgirl at that revelation. "You think _all_ Jedi are so passionate or are we just lucky?"

"I'd love to think we were lucky," Kila said, recalling the sexual energy that had flowed between Mace Windu and Varis Atrali. "But I think other Jedi _are_ just as passionate."

"Mmm," Padmé agreed. "Sometimes I wonder how different my life would be had Obi-Wan still been bound by the old rules." She laughed. "It's funny; I tend to go for the long lanky boyish types with dark hair – if you'd asked me a few years ago, I _never_ would have seen myself with Obi!"

Kila laughed. "That _is_ strange," she said. "You look really good together."

Padmé nudged her and winked. "Trust me on this – we don't just _look_ good together."

Kila shuddered. "Your husband is the closest thing I have to a brother – I don't need to hear about him in bed."

"Not only in bed." The younger woman was unrepentant.

Kila stuffed her fingers in her ears and started humming loudly – as handsome as Obi-Wan was, she just didn't see him that way.

Padmé grabbed her hands and yanked them down. "All right – I'll be good," she said. Then she clapped her hands. "Open the garment bag!"

Kila laughed. "If you're this excited on _my_ nameday, what must you be like on your own?" she teased, heading over to the garment bag with some trepidation. Padmé was a beautiful woman and was a lot younger than herself – what worked for the petite Senator would _not_ work with Kila's plumper body and plain face.

"Oh, I revert completely to childhood," Padmé said.

Kila unzipped the garment bag and saw a very soft material in a beautiful shade of delicate rose. She pulled out the material and held it up, watching as the dress unfolded.

The dress was simple, elegant and screamed 'designer' to Kila. Wide shoulder straps complemented the floor-length skirt, the bodice was not frilled, tucked, shirred or decorated so wouldn't draw attention to her full breasts. The neckline was not so low as to be indecent, or to expose the scar, but there _was_ a hint of cleavage that she knew Qui-Gon would appreciate.

With the dress was a pair of low-heeled slippers in a matching color – plus a wrap and a purse. She touched the dress again. "Oh, Force …," she muttered. "It's beautiful! But … it's too much."

"No it isn't," Padmé retorted. "Every girl needs to feel like a fine lady now and then – you're not that different to the rest of us."

"_Thank_ you." Kila laid the dress carefully back on the settee, and then hugged her friend. "Qui-Gon's going to love it too."

"I know." Padmé chuckled. "The man would think you're beautiful in rags and barefoot, but this will certainly make him sit up and take notice!"

Kila laughed. "I don't suppose your skills extend to wedding dresses, do they?" she asked hopefully.

"You haven't got your dress _yet_?" Padmé said in shock. "There's only a few weeks left!"

"I know," Kila said mildly. "I've tried a few times to find something, but all the designers keep wanting to put me in some white fluffy thing."

"Khest," Padmé mumbled. "How about I take you to the woman that did _my_ gown? She actually listens to her customers."

"I think that's a bit out of my budget," Kila said. "I'm not a rich Senator like you," she teased.

"What makes you think I'm rich?" Padmé asked. "My home is provided for me, and my stipend is not that much. I could earn a lot more in the private sector, but a politician is what I'm meant to be."

Kila looked at the beautiful woman who was always the epitome of understated elegance. "Really?"

"Really," Padmé confirmed. "I simply pick classic designs in good fabrics that won't wear out or be unfashionable after one season. You do the same, you know, except you think you're hideous so you don't always pick the right cuts or colors." She slipped her arm around Kila's waist and hugged her briefly. "But, never mind – Aunt Padmé won't steer you wrong."

"You can't be my aunt – you're six years younger than me," Kila laughed, her face pinking at Padmé's gentle scolding.

"Semantics." Padmé waved her hand. "But if you're going to be pedantic, how about I be your little bratty sister? I'm very good at doing that – just ask Sola!"

"A sister …," Kila mused. "I'd like that," she said. "So … you'll help me pick out a wedding dress?"

"I will," Padmé said. She chuckled. "And if you think Qui-Gon's going to love _this_ dress, you'd better study up on resuscitation techniques for your wedding day!"


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER 23**

**That evening:**

Qui-Gon looked at his wrist chrono a little impatiently as he waited for his betrothed to emerge from the bathroom. She wasn't the kind to primp and fuss, so what could be taking her so long?

The door to the bedroom opened and Qui-Gon sighed. "Finally," he muttered. Then Kila emerged, looking at him with a combination of timidity and anticipation. And he understood why. Gods … she was beautiful.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," she murmured, fiddling with her neckline as was her wont when she was nervous.

"It's … incredibly worth the wait," Qui-Gon managed to croak out. "You look amazing." And now he understood Padmé's comment about him keeping a tight hold on her tonight. He went over to her and put his hands on her upper arms, and then drew her to him for a gentle kiss, not wishing to crumple her gown.

Kila smiled against his lips then wrapped her bare arms around his neck and pressed up against him to deepen the kiss.

"Your gown …," he murmured.

Kila nipped at his lower lip. "I don't care," she said then sought entrance into his mouth.

Well, if she didn't care … Qui-Gon threw caution to the winds and wrapped his arms around his lover, lifting her off her feet as their mouths burned against each other.

Untold seconds later he set her back on her feet. She looked dazed and rumpled and he felt a slight twinge of guilt for crumpling that beautiful gown. But _only_ a slight twinge. "Well …," he said, breathing in deeply and trying to calm his racing heart. "I think we should go now." He licked his swollen lips, hoping that he hadn't got any rouge on them.

Kila giggled then swept a finger over his lips and held the clean digit up to him. "Padmé gave me some sort of sealant," she said. "The only reason your lips are red is because of the kiss."

"Oh. Well _that_ I don't mind," Qui-Gon said. "Do you have a wrap or something? We don't have far to go, but it's a little chilly out there."

Kila nodded her head and retrieved a wrap of the same color as that incredible gown. She settled it around her shoulders. "I'm ready," she said, tucking a curl behind her ear.

Qui-Gon smiled down at her then held the door open for her. "After you, milady," he said.

"As it should be," Kila said grandly, preceding him out of the apartment.

They made their way out of the Temple and he saw Kila shiver as the cool night breeze hit her. "I can't believe your thermostat is still set for Tatooine," he teased gently, putting an arm around her shoulders and lifting up his large cloak to encompass her smaller frame.

"I did spend nearly thirty years there," Kila said mildly, slipping her own arm around his waist. She gave his side a cheeky pinch, causing him to start, and then snuggled happily into him as they made their way over to the swoop awaiting them.

Qui-Gon nodded to the 19-year-old Padawan who was to pilot them to their destination. Yes; he could have piloted – so could Kila for that matter – but this was so much nicer. "Padawan Tano," he said politely.

"Good evening, Master Jinn," the tiny Togruta female replied just as politely. Then she smiled. "Hello, Kila."

"Hello, Ahsoka." Kila returned the smile. "So … you're playing eeopie for us tonight?"

There was a pause as Ahsoka mused over the evidently unfamiliar word then she nodded. "Master Kenobi suggested it," she said. "I need more piloting practice so this struck him as being a good idea."

Kila chuckled and backed dramatically away from the swoop. "I did _not _need to know that!" she laughed.

"I'm not that bad," Ahsoka laughed also, "but I prefer living things to mechanical."

So did Obi-Wan, her Master, Qui-Gon reflected. The younger Master claimed frequently that flying was for droids – and sentients that just didn't know any better. He smiled, recalling Obi-Wan's complaints as a Padawan, and then ushered his betrothed into the swoop, admiring the display of her legs when she pulled up her skirt to step into the swoop. "You really do look incredible," he told her.

Kila went pink. "Padmé's choice," she said, waving her hand at her elegant ensemble. "In fact, I've asked her to help me pick out my wedding gown."

"I look forward to seeing it," Qui-Gon said.

"Not for five weeks you won't," Kila shot back as the swoop rose smoothly into the air.

"I don't see your wedding gown until the day?" Qui-Gon was nonplused.

"It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding." Kila stated this superstition in such a matter of fact manner that Qui-Gon realized she was entirely serious. "Padmé's agreed that I can stay with her and Obi-Wan the night before."

This struck Qui-Gon as ridiculous, but … if it made her happy to observe some arcane superstition, then who was he to argue? After all, a wedding was a once-in-a-lifetime affair. "I don't believe in luck – bad or otherwise – but if it makes you happy," he said.

Kila smiled at him. "Thank you," she said. Then she chuckled. "You think I've taken leave of my senses, don't you?" she added.

"A very long time ago," Qui-Gon agreed.

He received a thump on the arm. "You horrible old man – you're supposed to be nice to me today." She pouted playfully.

Had Padawan Tano not been in the front of the swoop, Qui-Gon would have been sorely tempted to kiss that pout off Kila's lips. As it was, he settled for a gentle brush of his lips against her cheek. "I'm sorry," he said. "I couldn't resist."

"Oh, you're just _evil_," Kila laughed then slipped her hands round his neck and playfully choked him. Then she lifted her chin up and caught at his lips.

"Ohh … Padawan right here," Padawan Tano groaned.

Kila giggled against Qui-Gon's lips. "Shut up, you ghastly infant," she scolded then slipped her sweet pink tongue into Qui-Gon's mouth, caressing his teeth, tongue and palate. Her fingers buried themselves in his hair as the kiss deepened and he groaned when she pressed her soft curves tightly against him.

Just as Qui-Gon felt the last vestiges of his self-control wane, Kila sighed and sat back with a chuckle. "Well … I do believe I've rendered you speechless," she gloated and he blushed.

Another groan came from the young Togruta. "Have I been rendered invisible?" she asked of no-one in particular.

Kila chuckled again. "You're only 19," she told the Padawan. "Wait a few years and then you'll understand."

Tano might look like a woman but the Togruta race developed physically several years before their mental and emotional maturity. Therefore, she seemed much younger than the other Padawans her age – the equivalent of perhaps nine or ten Standard years.

The Togruta snorted. "I doubt that," she said. "I can't see me ever falling in love."

"Never say never," Kila retorted airily, her lips hovering very close to Qui-Gon's. She grinned as he eyed her warily, and then she brushed her lips against his and sat back.

Much to Qui-Gon's relief. As much as he loved Kila and had enjoyed her passionate kiss, he _was_ chary of intense public displays of affection – his childhood bashfulness rearing its head once more at those times. He much preferred to reserve his lovemaking for more private times.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon ushered his betrothed into the restaurant ahead of him, noting with amusement several sets of eyes – both male and female – drawn to Kila. When she took the wrap off, one male was even bolder.

"Well, you can kill me now – I'll die a happy man," he said, watching Kila's form closely. He craned his neck as Qui-Gon settled Kila into her chair.

She – completely unaware – picked up her menu and began reading it.

The young man tilted back his chair to gape further at Kila, his eyes flickering down to her full breasts and setting up home there. "Is there something I can do for you?" Qui-Gon asked softly yet meaningfully.

"Oh! Ah … no, sir," the younger man replied. "I meant no disrespect." He coughed nervously and turned his attention back to his meal.

"You're looming, dear," Kila said quietly. "Sit down, for kriff's sake."

Qui-Gon did so and smiled to himself. Even now, Kila didn't realize the attention she'd garnered – her innate modesty not allowing her to see the bright lovely woman she truly was. He picked up his own menu and glanced through the vast array of comestibles on offer.

A touch on his arm broke his attention and he looked up to see Kila blushing. "I … uhm … can't read some of these," she murmured, chewing at her bottom lip in obvious distress. "I … didn't learn to read Aurebesh until a few years ago."

That made sense, Qui-Gon realized. No slave-owner wanted a well-read slave. But he knew better than to comment – that would only embarrass her further. "Which ones?" he asked softly.

Kila colored again and pointed to the item at the top of the list. Qui-Gon looked at it and chuckled softly. "It would help if it was spelled correctly," he said. "That's Mandalorian _krupka_."

"Oh, _nice_," Kila said. "I'll definitely start with that. Then I'll have the Togrutian nerf steak with _Belar_ sauce, and then …" She blushed yet again. "What desserts do they have?"

"There's Throskian _dlini_ with _kasafruit_ purée, _very_ sweet, Alderaani spice pudding, and Nubian _anglatori_ with a Mavarian stout sauce."

Kila shuddered. "After what happened a couple of weeks ago, I'll never be able to stomach Mavarian stout again."

Qui-Gon chuckled. "You _were_ something of a full-on swoop crash," he said, recalling how adorably muddled and grumpy she had been.

Kila poked her tongue out at him. "I love you too," she replied sarcastically, her small foot impacting on his shin under the table. "I think I'll have … the _dlini_," she added with an impish grin.

Qui-Gon was mystified as to the reason for her grin. Until he felt little bare toes wiggle their way into his pant leg and up his calf. What a brat. Trying to distract himself from the faint tickling sensation, he lifted his head and summoned a waitress.

She smiled at them, her datapad poised for input. "Good evening, sir, madam," she said. "Is this your first visit?"

"Yes."

"No."

Kila lifted her brows and stroked his calf with her foot. "You've taken _other_ girls here?" she teased. "I want names, I want dates, I want faces."

Qui-Gon chuckled, knowing that she was too secure in his love for her to be concerned about past relationships. "You know you're the only girl for me," he crooned in his best imitation of any number of young gigolos he'd encountered. Then he grinned up at the waitress, who gasped, her eyes widening. "Anyway, we'll both start off with the Mandalorian _krupka_."

"An excellent choice, sir," the waitress replied calmly, having recovered from whatever had startled her. "May I recommend the Chandrila shimmer-milk to accompany it? It's very light and refreshing – it's a popular non-alcoholic choice with many of our customers."

"That sounds good to me," said Qui-Gon. "Kila?"

"Why not?" Kila said lightly, her toes crawling back up his calf.

"Well, my name is Shaa'til," the waitress aid. "Please ask for me when you're ready for your next course."

"Of course," said Qui-Gon. "Thank you."

The waitress moved away and Kila chuckled. "I always wondered what it was like to be invisible," she commented.

"Excuse me?" Qui-Gon replied.

"That waitress – I'm surprised she didn't offer _herself_ up as a main course."

"Are you suggesting she was attracted to me?"

"Who's suggesting?" Kila shot back. "I may _call_ you an old man, but you're really not in any way that matters."

Qui-Gon examined her lovely face intently – she didn't seem to be jealous – more amused. "I would never encourage her," he said.

"I know," Kila replied immediately, extending her hand across the small table and linking her fingers with his. "I'm nowhere near as insecure as I used to be," she assured him. "I love you, and I know you love me. Other people can look at you all they want – they just can't touch."

"Do you do that – look at other people?" Qui-Gon asked curiously.

"Not in the same way that waitress did," Kila said. "I find other men handsome as well as you, but I don't feel any interest or attraction." She blushed slightly. "I didn't have what you would call a normal life and by the time I got a normal life … I just figured it was too late. Then I met you," she said seriously. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me – I should have told you that a lot sooner."

"I'm glad to hear it," Qui-Gon returned, squeezing her fingers then lifting up her hand to bestow a kiss to it. "Because I feel very much the same way."

He leaned back slightly as the waitress put their drinks in front of them. "Thank you," he said.

"You're very welcome," she replied then winked and mouthed the words 'Call me' before heading to another table.

Despite himself, Qui-Gon blushed and glanced at Kila, who now wore a small frown. "We can leave if you'd like," he said. "This is your evening."

Kila shook her head. "Don't worry about it," she said then smiled. "I think I just need to make it a bit clearer that _I'm_ the reason you're unavailable."

Now Qui-Gon _was_ worried. When she wore that smile it never boded well. "You're not going to make a scene, are you?"

"Who, me?" Kila chuckled, which didn't reassure him at all, and then patted his hand lightly. "I'll just give her the facts quietly. There's no need for a scene."

"Good." Qui-Gon felt immeasurably relieved.

Kila chuckled again. "Perhaps you should be wearing the pledge bracelet rather than me," she said. "Just a little notice that the bravest, kindest, sexiest Jedi in the galaxy is officially off the market."

Qui-Gon smiled at her bias. Sexiest? His nose had been broken numerous times, his hair was gray, going white in places, he was covered in scars and he was long and gangly. He knew that he was sexually attractive to people, but had never understood why.

Kila held up her hand and summoned the waitress back to them. "Is there a problem?" the buxom woman asked, barely looking at Kila.

"Just a small one," Kila said pleasantly. "And it won't _be_ a problem in a few minutes." She patted Qui-Gon's hand once more. "Qui-Gon here is going to be my husband in a few weeks, so he won't be calling you," she added lightly.

"Oh!" The woman went bright pink, the reaction making her look suddenly much younger. "I'm really sorry, madam," she added.

Kila smiled. "That's all right," she said. "If nothing else, I have to admire your good taste."

The woman smiled back a little nervously. "Thank you for being so nice about it," she said. "And I really _am_ sorry."

Qui-Gon could only sit there and wonder exactly _how_ pink his face was.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Later that evening:**

Kila walked out of the restaurant, her stomach pleasantly full, and slipped her arms around Qui-Gon's waist, gazing up into his eyes. "Thank you for tonight," she said. "I had a wonderful time."

Qui-Gon smiled and pressed his lips to her forehead. "I thought, to end the evening properly, we might go to the gardens at Erith. You've not yet seen them at night, have you?"

"No, I haven't, but I've heard about them," Kila said. "Maybe we should change into something a bit less elegant, however."

Qui-Gon chuckled softly. "Practical to the core, my love," he said. They headed over to where Ahsoka awaited them and climbed into the swoop. "Take us back to the Temple, please," he said politely, "and then you're free to go."

"Yes, Master," Ahsoka murmured. Within a very short period of time they arrived back at the Temple grounds, and the Padawan was dismissed with thanks from them both.

Kila and Qui-Gon made their way up to their apartment in a comfortable contented silence. As she went into the spare bedroom to change her clothes – she had yet to disrobe fully in front of Qui-Gon and was still nervous about the idea – she hummed happily.

She stripped off the beautiful gown and hung it up carefully, and did the same with the slippers. Then she shrugged on a shirt of Qui-Gon's that she'd appropriated several days earlier, tied the ends loosely around her waist and pulled on a pair of well-worn pants and old comfortable shoes. She looked at herself in the mirror – she certainly wasn't elegant any longer, but at least she now recognized herself!

She blew a small raspberry at her reflection, and then headed back out into the living room, grinning as she saw how similar Qui-Gon's outfit was to her own.

He grinned also. "It's true," he said. "Couples who live together _do_ start to look like one another."

Kila rubbed her chin. "Well, if I ever start to grow a beard, just shoot me."

Qui-Gon chuckled. "And if I ever grow a pair of breasts, do the same for me. Not that _your_ breasts aren't nice."

"Nice?" Kila folded her arms over said breasts and raised her eyebrows. "Just … nice. A scarf is nice. Wookiee cubs are nice."

"Did I say nice?" Qui-Gon backpedaled rapidly. "I meant magnificent, awe-inspiring, alluring …" Then he scowled playfully at her. "Brat."

"Thank you." Kila relented in her teasing. "Well, shall we go?"

"After you, my love."

Kila preceded her betrothed out of the apartment and started when his hand impacted her rear. "Beast," she muttered.

"But you love me anyway," Qui-Gon said confidently.

He moved to her side after shutting the door and Kila slipped her hand into his. "Yes, I do," she replied. "Gods alone know _why_ sometimes, but I do."

Qui-Gon laughed out loud at that, drawing stares from some of the Jedi and a disapproving frown from one of the older members of the Council. Rumor had it amongst the Padawans that Jocasta Nu had been dead against the relaxation of the rules on attachment. And by that stony glare, Kila decided that the rumors had at least some truth to them.

"Master Nu," Qui-Gon said civilly.

"Master Jinn," the old woman returned stiffly, raked her eyes down Kila's form, tilted an eyebrow, and then moved on.

"Kriff, woman, crack a smile now and then. Your face won't break," Kila muttered in disgust.

"Kila …," Qui-Gon warned gently.

"I'm sorry," Kila murmured – the woman was a Jedi Master and her status demanded the proper respect. "But did she have to be so rude?" she added unrepentantly.

Qui-Gon tugged at her hand and they made their way back out of the Temple. "I love your spirit, your passion … but you have to temper them with wisdom. There's a time to fight and a time for peace."

"Choose my moments you mean," Kila said, climbing into the swoop. "May I pilot? I don't get to fly very often, and I've missed it."

"By all means," Qui-Gon said. "You do know the route to take, I hope."

"Of course," Kila said mildly. The swoop lifted up into the air and Kila eased back on the speed – they were in no hurry, after all.

Seeing that there was little or no incoming traffic, she switched over to autopilot then put an arm around Qui-Gon's waist. "It's beautiful up here," she said.

His own arm came around her shoulders. "It is," he agreed, hugging her closely to him. "But it pales in comparison to how you looked in that gown."

Kila smiled. "Why, you flatterer," she said. "Just for that, I think I'll marry you."

"Well, then; mission accomplished," Qui-Gon returned in the same light tone. He took her right hand and lifted it up. "Oh, and look … you just happen to be wearing my pledge bracelet! That's very useful."

Kila giggled. "You're becoming very strange in your old age."

"It must be the company I keep," Qui-Gon said deadpan.

"I'll tell Master Yoda you said that," Kila shot back, sliding her hand out of his, down his chest, to land on his thigh.

_Very_ high on his thigh.

The firm muscles twitched as Qui-Gon made an obvious effort to fight his arousal and Kila smiled. It was nice to know that he could find her attractive even with the way she looked right now.

Then a large hand landed high up on her _own_ thigh and squeezed it gently.

"You know," Qui-Gon said softly, flexing his fingers on her thigh, "all people see is your sweet face. They don't realize what an evil wench you can be."

Kila chuckled a little breathlessly. "Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment," she said.


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER 24**

**Two days later:**

Kila had just lifted up her hand to press the chime when the door opened and Padmé pulled her in forcefully. "So … what's the big news?" she asked, surprised at the strength in the petite delicate-looking woman.

Padmé smiled widely. "You're the first of my friends to find out," she said. "I'm going to have a baby – in seven months."

"Oh … Force," Kila got out. "Oh, that's wonderful! Do you know what you're having?"

Padmé smiled again. "A girl – Obi hopes she looks just like me, the big softy." She chuckled suddenly. "And a boy."

"_Twins_?" Kila was sure her jaw literally hit the ground. "When you and Obi-Wan do something, you don't do it by halves, do you?"

Padmé giggled then took Kila's hand and led her to the settee. "On Naboo it's traditional for a child to have three _nunzhilla_ … it really doesn't translate into Aurebesh. A boy will have two females and a male, a girl two males and a female – to provide balance. We would like you to be a _nunzhilla_ to our girl – Obi is going to ask Qui-Gon to be _nunzhilla_ to our boy."

Just when Kila thought her jaw couldn't drop any further. "I … well, I can't speak for Qui-Gon of course, but I'd be honored," she said, throwing her arms around her best friend and honorary sister in a hug.

"Wonderful," said Padmé, one hand going down seemingly of its own volition to land on her still flat stomach. "I can't imagine what I'm going to look like in a couple of months – I probably won't even be able to see my own feet!"

Kila laughed at that image. "That's one of the advantages of being bigger, I suppose," she said. "I won't show as obviously."

"Are you telling me _you're_ pregnant?" Padmé squealed very girlishly for a married woman and a Senator.

"No," Kila said. "I just mean – _if_ I get pregnant."

"Oh," Padmé said, sounding disappointed. "It would have been nice for our children to be the same age." She leaned into Kila. "Do you and Qui-Gon _want_ children? Are you trying?"

"Yes; we both want children, but at the moment we're not trying," Kila said with a blush. "We're both quite old-fashioned and I've never … you know." She blushed again. "So we're waiting till after the ceremony."

"Well … I admire your fortitude," Padmé said frankly. "Obi was _my_ first lover, too – but I couldn't have waited for him till our wedding. We were on Mandalore staying with his sister about three years ago, when I finally realized that I loved that Jedi. I'd met him when I was 14 and had a bit of a crush, but our lives went in separate directions for a while. We saw each other occasionally then he erupted back into my life when I became Senator – about two years before Dooku and his Separatists reared their ugly heads."

Kila flinched at the mention of Dooku … Tyranus. She was still having trouble coming to terms with the fact that that Sith had sired her – most of the time she simply tried to push it to the back of her mind. She shook her head minutely. "It took you two years to realize you were in love with Obi-Wan?"

"Mmm." Padmé chuckled. "I'm not as bright as you. I probably realized it earlier but I fought it for a long time. I was dedicated to my career in the Senate; thought love would get in the way. And part of me thought I couldn't be in love with Obi because he wasn't tall and dark like how I'd dreamed as an adolescent." She nudged Kila and laughed. "Obi-Wan's sister was the one who opened my eyes – made me see that my feelings for Obi were actually romantic love, not just a friendship."

"She sounds very wise," Kila said.

"Yes; she is," said Padmé. "You don't need anyone to tell you that you love Qui-Gon, though."

"Indeed I don't," Kila replied fondly. She sighed happily and stretched. "Thank you for the gown, by the way. You were partly right."

"Partly right?" Padmé echoed.

"Qui-Gon did love it, but he certainly didn't need to keep a hold on me." Kila laughed softly. "I did have to warn the waitress off of _him_, though."

"It doesn't bother you – that men and women come on to him?" Padmé asked.

Kila shrugged. "Not really," she said. "They can't help how they feel. If he reciprocated it would be a different matter."

"Well … you're a better person than I am," Padmé said. "I used to worry about how close Obi was to _you_. He thinks of you as a second little sister, but you don't actually share blood."

"And then you met me," Kila said. No wonder Padmé had been so nice to her! Kila was no kind of competition.

"And I could tell you didn't see Obi that way," Padmé said. "You were too far gone over Qui-Gon to look at another man that way."

"I do love that big Jedi," Kila said. "I'd never have thought I could love anyone the way I do him."

Padmé chuckled. "I'm completely Force null and even I can see that!" she said.

Kila fiddled with her neckline. "Padmé; can I ask you a question? Seriously?"

"Of course," Padmé said.

"Your … first time? Were you afraid?"

"A little," Padmé admitted. "It's probably the most vulnerable someone can be – both physically and emotionally."

"Yes," Kila agreed. "I've heard it … hurts, the first time."

"I'd heard that too," Padmé said, "but I'd always thought it was a myth designed to promote chastity. It _did_ hurt, but probably because I was too rushed and forced it. Obi was very gentle; made sure I was as prepared as I could be." She wriggled her shoulders. "And now … I can't get enough of him."

Kila wasn't too reassured by that. She was older than Padmé and a lot less limber. And there was Qui-Gon – he was much taller than Obi-Wan with a big powerful body. Maybe she really _would_ have to become intoxicated to be able to make love with him!

"Khest; I didn't help at all, did I?" Padmé said, wrapping an arm around her.

Kila shrugged. "Better that I know the truth," she said. "I love Qui-Gon and I want to be his wife – I'll just have to put up with the rest." She loved the way he kissed her, the way he touched her, but that wasn't enough in a marriage. Nor would it get them the children they both wanted.

"Lovemaking isn't a marital obligation," Padmé scolded.

"I know it shouldn't be," Kila said. "But what if I _don't_ like it? I don't want something as stupid as that to come between me and Qui-Gon."

"Then don't let it," Padmé said bluntly. "Yes; it might hurt a bit – don't be afraid to tell Qui-Gon. He's a kind gentle man who'll be careful with you. Hasn't he let you call most of the shots so far?"

"True," Kila admitted, recalling the gentle kiss on her forehead after they'd decided to begin courting. It was sometimes hard to believe she'd ever been so innocent.

Padmé got up and headed over to an old-fashioned wooden closet. She rummaged noisily for several seconds then threw a small datapad to Kila who caught it neatly. "Sola hid that in my bag a little before I got together with Obi. Mother gave it to her before she married Darred. I'm passing it on to you as an honorary Naberrie woman."

Kila switched the datapad on and read the opening paragraph. She went pink and switched it off. "That's … pornographic!" she spluttered.

"No it isn't," Padmé said. "Just a few hints and tips – which Obi and I _didn't _need. We practically burned a hole in the bed."

"Yuck," Kila grumbled. "I didn't need to know that." She pushed the datapad back to her friend. "I know you mean well, but … I'm not going to use that book."

"Pity," Padmé said brightly. "There's some good stuff in there." She nudged her friend. "Just … take it home tonight and read it. If you can't picture you and Qui-Gon doing _any_ of it, it'll be a shame."

Kila was certain her face was now bright red. "I can't even picture me and Qui-Gon making love at _all_, never mind anything acrobatic!" she exclaimed. "I'm not a naïve child, Padmé – I've probably seen far more of the seedier side of life than you'll ever understand. That's why I want something sweet and gentle with the man who will be my husband."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Padmé frowned at her honorary older sister, more than a little confused. She'd said she'd never made love, had never even been kissed before Qui-Gon, so how …?

Kila sighed. "For ten years I was owned by a Hutt," she said simply. "And before that various other beings. Believe me; if I'd been more attractive, I would have had no need of _any_ books by the time I reached 15 or 16 Standard years."

"You were a slave?"

"I was also a person," Kila replied. "I just happen to have had owners."

"Sorry," Padmé mumbled, flashing back more than thirteen years to an indignant little blue-eyed boy on Tatooine. He'd stated just as forcefully that he was a person. "Anyway …," she continued brightly, trying to get past the awkward moment, "we need to get you fitted for a wedding gown!"

"Uh," Kila grumbled. "I'm beginning to wish we'd eloped."

"What; and deprive yourself of the finest in nervous breakdowns?" Padmé quipped, recalling how nervous she had been the day she'd married Obi. _And_ how smugly amused Kila had been.

Kila's eyes narrowed in on her, and Padmé had to wonder – not for the first time – if being Force sensitive gave one telepathy. "You're loving this, aren't you?" her friend complained.

"Oh yes," Padmé confirmed cheerfully, picking up a bag and a wrap. "Well, let's go young lady – people to meet and gowns to try."

"Uh," Kila grumbled. "I'm beginning to wonder why I like you so much."

Padmé chuckled. "I told you I was good at being the bratty little sister, didn't I?"

"Indeed," Kila returned deadpan as the two girls left the residence. "Sola deserves a medal for letting you live this long."

Caught off guard, Padmé let loose with a hearty laugh rarely heard in the stuffy hallways of 500 Republica. "I love you, too!" she giggled, tucking her hand through Kila's arm and marching her along the hallways.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

They had only been at the shop for forty minutes and already Kila's head hurt. There was a dizzying array of fabrics, styles, colors … how in the Sith hells could she possibly decide?

"This color's nice," Padmé said, holding up a swatch of shimmery material in a very delicate cream.

"It's pretty," Kila agreed, "but I'm too old for it. I'm hardly a wide-eyed little 18 year old marrying her childhood sweetheart." She knew Padmé was becoming exasperated, but nothing here was just right. "Uh," she groaned, slumping into a handy chair, "we _really_ should have eloped." She looked around. "And where is this designer of yours, anyway?"

"She'll be here soon," Padmé replied, showing Kila another swatch of fabric – this one being of a rich dark red made out of some plush thick stuff.

"I like that color," Kila said, taking the swatch from her friend. "And the fabric feels nice too."

"Well … it's a start," Padmé said. She sat down and gave a weary-sounding sigh. "I can't believe how tired I am!" She rested a hand on her stomach then patted it. "But it's worth it."

The door opened and an unusually tall Togruta female burst in. She barreled right over to Padmé. "Senator; I'm _so_ sorry I'm late!" she said. "Traffic was a whole new Sith hell and … is this Kila?" She broke off her monologue to stare at Kila.

"Ahh … yes," Kila herself said, shifting under the all-encompassing gaze.

"Well, I'm Alee-Ra. I'm not sure why you think you would need my help, but the Senator was right – white would not be right for you," the Togruta said firmly, taking Kila's hands and examining her from head to toe. "You have very fair skin – this color will be quite draining," she said, plucking at the dark red fabric. "Something in a purple perhaps. You have a wonderful shape and beautiful hair and eyes – purple would make you look very … regal."

"Uh … well … all right," Kila said weakly. Gods, this woman was like a force of nature!

The Togruta laughed suddenly. "I'm sorry – am I overwhelming you?" she asked. "I'll slow down. Do you _like _purple, to start off with?"

"I do, but I've never worn it," Kila said.

"She tends to live in black or brown – it's the Jedi thing," Padmé put in helpfully.

"_She_ is right here," Kila commented. "And I sometimes wear blue."

"Blue … Too cold for you," the Togruta said. "Warm colors in soft fabrics cut to draw attention to those magnificent breasts."

Kila colored and fought the urge to cross her arms over her 'magnificent' breasts. "I'd rather not draw attention to them," she said quietly.

The Togruta looked at her thoughtfully. "Well, it's your decision, of course," she said. "Can we at least give your groom a _hint_ of the bounty? Nothing tasteless, of course – sensual but elegant."

"It's a gown, not a miracle," Kila said, becoming exasperated with the way the woman's eyes had set up home on her chest. "And my eyes are about eight inches north of where you're currently looking – look me in the eyes when you talk to me."

"Kila!" Padmé hissed. "She needs to look at you if she's going to get you something that suits you!"

Kila shifted awkwardly. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"No; you're right," the Togruta said. "I'm being very unprofessional but I find you incredibly beautiful." As Kila gaped at her, she dug in a capacious pocket and produced a small card. "These are the contact details for one of my colleagues on the other side of Capitol City," she added. "And I'm so sorry for making you uncomfortable."

Kila shook her head. "Padmé recommended you," she said. "I'd rather stick with you – if that's all right. I'm … not accustomed to people being attracted to me," she added haltingly, "and I reacted stupidly. I'm sorry."

"I'll accept your apology if you'll accept mine," the Togruta offered.

"It's a deal," Kila replied. "It's actually quite flattering, but I've never been interested in females that way."

"Fair enough," the Togruta said. "I don't suppose you have a twin sister who's interested in females that way?" she added hopefully.

Kila and Padmé both laughed at that. "Sorry, but no," Kila said. She fingered the purple fabric once more. "Well … shall we get on with it?"

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

"So … tell me about him," Alee-Ra said an hour or so later around a mouthful of pins. "This man of yours that has blinded you completely to my charms."

Kila giggled, by now completely comfortable with the Togruta's flirtatious manner. "Are you sure?" she teased. "I wouldn't want to rub your nose in it."

"Oh, I need to know what's so special about some male that he managed to get _you_ – you magnificent creature – to think marrying him was a good idea."

Kila giggled again, finding herself enjoying the meaningless flirtation. Her favorite flirting target was Qui-Gon of course, but it was fun to flirt just for the sake of it – to enjoy some banter and tease without any sexual tension. "Well … he's a Jedi too – a Master. He's big and powerful with an evil sense of humor. But he's also sweet and giving – so gentle and tender."

"And is he handsome?" Alee-Ra asked.

"Oh, yes," said Kila. "Not classically handsome – not like Chancellor Organa – but he's got this incredibly soft silver hair, bright blue eyes and great bones. And he's tall and slim with wonderful broad shoulders."

"Sounds very sexy," the Togruta commented.

"Oh yes," Kila and Padmé replied in unison.

"What?" Padmé added when Kila stared at her. "I'm married not blind."

Kila chuckled. "I'd get revenge by eyeing up Obi-Wan but he's too much like a brother."

"So … this Qui-Gon. If his hair is gray he must be quite a lot older than you," Alee-Ra said.

"Forty years," Kila confirmed. "Trust me on this, though, there's nothing _old_ about him. He's incredibly fit and gets this wonderful boyish twinkle when he's tormenting me or plotting mischief."

"Interesting," said Alee-Ra. "Jedi always seem so solemn, but you and the Senator's husband certainly aren't."

"We're like anyone else – some of us are more serious than others," Kila replied, thinking of Jocasta Nu.

"And call me Padmé," Padmé added. "You came to my wedding, for goodness sake!"

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Several hours later, Kila and Padmé left Alee-Ra's shop; Kila's credit account now severely depleted. It had taken her years to save up that money – a lot had gone on the security deposit for their new home and the rest on her wedding apparel.

"Oh, I'm tired," Padmé sighed. "Can we stop off and get something to eat somewhere?"

"I think I can stretch to a cup of caf," Kila laughed. She tucked her hand through Padmé's arm and turned her round. "We're not too far from Dex's."

"Sounds good," Padmé said. She patted her flat abdomen. "Listen up, you two – stop wearing your mother out!"

Kila chuckled. "Talking to invisible people – that's one of the first signs of madness."

"Well, you know what they say – madness is hereditary. You …"

"… get it from your children," the two women said together with another burst of laughter.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

More than one head turned look at the two attractive young women as they strolled along the busy streets of Capitol City, chatting and laughing. Many of the starers would have been shocked if they'd known that these laughing girls were a Republic Senator and a Jedi in training.

One starer had something else entirely on his mind, however. He watched through narrowed hazel eyes as the two marks got nearer his position. They were quite small – at eleven Standard years, he was already taller than one and nearly the same height as the other one. Soon he would be too tall to blend in as easily and would have to find some other way of making a living.

_Easy pickings_, he thought gleefully, preparing to slide his hand into the smaller one's pocket. She looked rich – if he did well out of this, he'd be set up for life.

Then a firm hand grasped his shoulder and he cursed his own stupidity. That hand dragged him out of his hiding place and he stared fiercely into the eyes of the other mark. "Say; what ya doin' draggin' around a little kid?" he said, making his voice deliberately whiny. "I'll tell the law on ya!"

"Really." The woman eyed him with amusement and curiosity combined. "I wonder who they'd believe – some scruffy little urchin from the streets or a Jedi."

A Jedi? Khest! He'd heard tales of the Jedi – that they could kill you with just a thought – but he'd never quite believed they were real. The woman swung back her cloak to show the gleaming butt of a DL44 blaster.

He didn't know if she truly was a Jedi, but he knew that he didn't want to be on the receiving end of that blaster. He had marks to find, a living to make. He struggled against the surprisingly strong little woman – to no avail. "Lemme go!" he yelled. "Last I heard Jedi ain't above the law – you're beating up a little kid!"

"Bantha poo-doo," the woman snorted, not even seeming out of breath. "What's your name, kid?"

_Never give them your name._ One of the many lessons he'd learned in his short life. "Ain't gonna tell ya!" he sneered, noting that people were giving him and the two women a wide berth.

"You tell me your name, where you live and who you work for and I'll get you out of there," the woman replied calmly. "I've been in bad situations too, but good people made a difference. You don't _seem_ irredeemable."

"Kila …," the smaller woman murmured uneasily. "Maybe we should let the law deal with him."

"No," the woman – Kila – said. "I'm not seeing some scared little boy fall into the prison system. Besides," she added, "he reminds me of someone who helped me once. I owe it to that little boy to help others like him."

The boy stopped his struggling at that, surprised at the fondness in the woman's voice. Maybe _this_ one would be all right; maybe she'd treat him better than Shrike. And if she didn't he could leave – like he left Shrike more than a year ago. "Why d'you care, lady?" he blurted out.

Kila didn't let go of his arm, but now the hold seemed maternal, protective. "Why shouldn't I?" she said. "Not everyone in the galaxy is out to do harm."

"Seems like most are," the boy said cynically. It was too good to be true. This woman with the small hands and pretty eyes couldn't possibly want anything to do with a ragged street urchin like him.

"I used to feel that way," Kila said gently. "Look, you don't have to decide anything now, but let me buy you a meal first." She indicated a diner nearby. "Dex does great food and he has a soft spot for strays – believe me."

The boy looked at the diner then to the two pretty ladies, and then back to the diner. His stomach rumbled and Kila chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes," she said, taking the boy's hand and leading him and the other lady to the diner.

The boy could have broken away at any time, yet he didn't. And he couldn't begin to explain why.


	25. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER 25**

Kila kept a surreptitious eye on the young boy as she chatted with Padmé, her heart aching for the way he bolted his food and those hazel eyes that were far too wary for a child. Interestingly, he showed no inclination to flee, although she suspected it would be different once his belly was full.

She was surprised at the strong maternal urges the gangling youth inspired in her – there was something about him … Shaking off her preoccupation; she leaned over and topped up his bowl with more broth then handed him several more pieces of Corellian flatbread. "Thanks, lady," he muttered around a mouthful of flatbread.

"You're welcome," Kila said and patted his grubby hand. He flinched back – his eyes suddenly large in his too-thin face – and Kila seethed. The boy was simply starved for affection. "Eat up, kid – you're too skinny."

The boy looked at her assessingly then shrugged and returned to his meal.

Kila smiled at the scruffy brown head then turned back to Padmé, and resumed her conversation.

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An hour or so later, Padmé bid Kila goodbye and stepped into the swoop piloted by Dormé.

Kila put her hand on the skinny boy's arm. "So … what now?" she asked.

"What ya mean?" the boy returned.

"You've had a meal and rain is threatening," Kila said. "Have you somewhere decent to stay? If not, I have a spare room."

"Ain't no-one owns me, lady – not no more!" the boy said angrily. "I work for myself."

"I'm not trying to buy you," Kila countered. "I was a slave for many years on Tatooine – I'm not about to subject someone else to that."

Again; another sharp assessing look from those too-old eyes. "Your guy … he ain't gonna want some scrawny kid from the streets messin' up his place."

Kila smothered a grin – Obi-Wan had recently educated her as to Qui-Gon's propensity for collecting strays. "Oh, you have nothing to worry about there, believe me. Qui-Gon has to be one of the best people I've ever met."

The boy shrugged his shoulders. "All right, then," he said.

They moved along the street then he suddenly said; "So … he a Jedi, too?"

"All his life," Kila replied, immeasurably pleased that the boy was showing even a little interest. "He's been a Master for about thirty years, but he's only recently got onto their Council." She chuckled. "He's a bit of a rebel – your kind of Jedi."

They got to the transport stop and the rain came down. Kila flung her cloak around the boy – those rags he wore were no protection at all. The boy moved away quickly. "I can't take your cloak, lady – you'll get soaked," he said. "Me … I'm used to it."

Kila smiled at the rough chivalry – there was something about this lad that was charming in a brash fashion. He'd probably grow up to be quite the loveable scoundrel. "We'll share," she said, holding the cloak open. "No sense in you getting soaked, you inane infant."

The boy scowled, but got back under the cloak. "I ain't an infant, lady – I'll be 12 in a few months."

"Oh, forgive me, Ancient One," Kila teased. "It was less than two hours ago that you were calling yourself a little kid." The swoop pulled up near them and Kila ushered the boy on, returning the pilot's scowl with one of her own. "He's with me," she said, casually moving her cloak to show the blaster. She rarely carried the kriffing thing but something had made her belt it to her side today.

"Ahh … of course," the pilot croaked.

It was only a short journey to the Jedi Temple and both Kila and the boy were silent throughout. The lad regarded everyone warily – as if he expected to be beaten or thrown out – and Kila divided her attention between her wedding gown and the puzzle of why she was so drawn to this skinny cynical youth.

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The boy followed Kila into the apartment and looked at it curiously. Big, clean, comfortable-looking. He eyed the various holos and wondered what he could get for the frames.

"Don't even think it," Kila said, and he started. Was she psychic? "This is where you can sleep," she added, flinging open a door and showing a small but comfortable bedroom. "Fresher is next door – I suggest you use it. I'll get you some clean clothes while you're showering."

"A _real_ water shower?" he blurted out.

Kila laughed. "I felt the same way the first time I had one," she confided. "I always feel so much better with a water shower than with the sonics." She pushed him gently into the fresher. "I'll get you some things – leave you in peace."

With that she bustled out of the fresher, leaving the lad staring after her, his throat curiously tight. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried, but he was perilously close to doing so now.

He ripped his ragged clothing off then stepped into the shower cubicle and switched on the water. Gods … he'd never felt anything so good!

When he stepped out of the fresher many minutes later, clad in clean pants and shirt, his nose twitched as he detected the unmistakable odor of Mandalorian Sweetcake. He went cautiously into the living area to find Kila curled up on a couch reading and eating a slice of cake. "Better?" she asked. He nodded cautiously. "Good," she continued. "Have a seat, kid, and stop looming. You're too young to be so tall already."

"Maybe you're too short," the boy shot back without thinking.

To his surprise, Kila guffawed then shoved the cake platter over to him. "Help yourself," she said then returned her attention to her book.

The boy sat down near the cake and reached out for a slice. He wolfed it down then took a second slice with a wary glance toward Kila. She didn't even raise her head from her book.

So far so good. But he would wait and see. He hadn't survived this long by trusting people.

The door opened and a very tall man came in. He gave a curious glance to the boy then Kila got up. "Hello, love," she said warmly.

"Hello," the man replied. The lad gathered that that was Kila's guy but couldn't recall his name. The big man turned to the lad and regarded him steadily from his towering height. "Enjoying Kila's cake, young man?" he inquired humorously, touching his upper lip.

The lad felt his _own_ lip then hastily wiped off the cream mustache with his hand. "Yeah; it's good," he said.

"Are you visiting with us?" the big man continued, taking a seat near his betrothed and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"I … dunno," the lad mumbled, feeling himself grow hot under the collar as Kila snuggled into the man and kissed his neck. He was nearly twelve, after all – the hormones were flowing.

"Oh?" The man regarded him with eyes that were way too sharp for an old guy. "I'm Qui-Gon Jinn, by the way."

He extended his hand and the lad shook it, startled by the respectful gesture. "Good to meet ya," he replied but didn't offer his own name. He wasn't ready to trust them _that_ much.

"No name, hey?" Qui-Gon said. "Do all Corellian boys go by "Hey you" or is it just you?" Then he yelped when Kila drove her elbow into his side.

"Don't tease him, you horrible old man!" she scolded with obvious affection. She turned to the lad and handed him a glass of blue liquid. "Ignore him," she advised with a grin. "I forgot to warn you about his penchant for mischief."

His what? To cover up his feeling of ignorance, the lad sipped warily at the liquid – on what remote planet was milk blue, anyway? – surprised to find that it was actually good.

He watched as the two Jedi continued their good-natured bickering and snickered when Kila put out her tongue at Qui-Gon.

"Don't point that thing at me unless you intend to use it," Qui-Gon teased.

"Please, dear; we have company!" Kila exclaimed in a shocked tone. Then she giggled. "Yoda deserves a medal for not killing you as a youngling."

Qui-Gon tugged Kila's hair. "Brat," he retaliated.

These people were weird, the boy decided now. But he couldn't help liking them.

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Several hours later, the skinny lad – who didn't look quite so forlorn after a good meal and a wash-up – stood up and yawned. "I … I'm a bit tired," he said. "I'm gonna go sleep."

"All right," Kila said, fighting the urge to kiss his cheek. "Sleep well and we'll see how tomorrow goes."

"Yeah," the boy said gruffly. "Night, sir," he added then bent and pressed a hasty kiss to Kila's cheek. "Thanks for … ya know," he offered almost bashfully.

Then he was gone.

"Oh, khest …," Kila murmured, stunned at the spontaneous gesture of affection from the rough and tumble lad.

"As Obi-Wan would say, have we adopted another pathetic life-form?" Qui-Gon asked mildly.

"Too soon to say," Kila replied. "I met him earlier today – he was planning to rob either Padmé or myself." She sighed. "There's something about him, Qui-Gon … I've never wanted to mother someone so much. I think he could be a good kid if he wanted."

Qui-Gon nodded his head. "The boy is simply starved – physically and emotionally. It would be a very big job, even if we were able to take him in permanently. The lad may be a runaway in which case he belongs back with his family."

"Maybe … but what little boy runs away from home if he's happy there?" Kila argued. "He's very streetwise – that means he's been on his own for a long time." She sighed then slipped her arm around Qui-Gon's waist. "Anyway, it could all be a moot point – he could leave before the sun comes up."

"One day at a time," Qui-Gon said. He cupped Kila's cheek with his large worn palm, and then kissed her sweetly. "You have such a soft heart, my love."

"And you don't?" Kila replied, thinking of how much he still loved little Anakin Skywalker – more than thirteen years after his death.

"Oh, I do – I don't deny it," Qui-Gon admitted. "I've never been ashamed of my warmer emotions." He grinned suddenly. "I recall how Master Yoda and I could sit for hours debating our emotions. I think he despaired of my ever mastering them. Yet he was one of the first to support lifting the ban on attachments."

Kila returned the grin. "Let me guess; you were _the_ first, weren't you?"

"How did you know?"

Kila snorted. "Oh, please. If I was to look up the word 'trouble' I'd find your picture as an illustration."

Qui-Gon sighed. "I must have a masochistic streak or something to put up with all the abuse I get from you."

"You love it," Kila retorted, placing her hand on his thigh and squeezing the taut muscles. "Oooh …," she voiced her approval of said taut muscles.

A rumble of laughter issued from Qui-Gon's chest. "Wanton lass," he teased, effecting a strange brogue Kila had never heard from him.

"And you love _that_, too," Kila replied, starting when a warm hand slipped in under her shirt to caress a cotton-covered breast. "Ah … we've got company, remember?" she managed to say as her mind turned to mush. "Let's take this into the bedroom."

He pinched a nipple and she squeaked. "Sensible as always," the man commented airily, getting up and holding out his hand to her.

Kila tucked her hand into his and they made their way to their bedroom, turning off the luminaters. When they got to their bedroom, Kila paused, feeling suddenly uncertain. Their young guest was using the spare bedroom so she couldn't change for bed there. Maybe it was time to pluck up the courage and undress in front of Qui-Gon.

While she had vacillated Qui-Gon had stripped down completely – it _was_ awfully warm tonight. He bent to pick up the discarded clothing and she sighed in appreciation as his taut rear end flexed.

_It's now or never, Kila_, she told herself. She unbuttoned her shirt swiftly, and then shrugged out of the sturdy undergarment. Then she bit her lip and pulled at the drawstring of her pants. As her pants and briefs fell to the floor she looked up uncertainly. Qui-Gon gave her a warm smile then turned away to put his clothes into the wash basket.

Kila dumped her own clothes into the basket then got into bed – it was far too hot for a sleep shirt but she felt terribly exposed. Qui-Gon got in beside her and gave her a wicked grin. "Now … where were we?" he asked, and then swallowed her burst of laughter in a hungry kiss.

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Firm where she needed to be, soft where he liked her, Qui-Gon explored his lover's nude body with the sure strokes of an experienced man. She trembled when one of his hands slipped between her thighs but parted her legs slightly to allow him to stroke the soft delicate skin of her inner thigh.

His experienced eye discerned her arousal and he cupped the center of her femininity, feeling the warmth and slight dampness. A bright blush covered her face and chest and she squeezed her eyes shut.

Distress, embarrassment and even humiliation radiated from her and Qui-Gon lifted his hand away quickly. "What is it?" he asked gently.

Kila heaved a sigh, and then bit her lip. "Sorry," she muttered. "I know we're getting married soon, but part of me feels like … like I'm doing something wrong. I know that's stupid and illogical – but that's how I feel."

Qui-Gon was vividly reminded by those words of the shy inexperienced girl-woman he'd met only a few short months ago. She'd never been shown that sexual intimacy could be pleasurable – had only ever seen the seedier side at Gardulla's palace. She'd come a long way in the last few weeks, but there was still a way to go for her to claim her sexuality.

"It's not stupid," he told her firmly. "If you don't want me to touch you a certain way, just tell me. I'll follow your lead. I want us to have a long, healthy, active sex life – it should never be an obligation for either of us. We just have to talk to each other."

Kila sighed then nodded her head. "I _do_ want to be able to make love with you," she said, resting her hand on his abdomen and playing with the line of hair that led down to his groin.

That small hand slipped round to his back and rested briefly on his buttocks, before stroking the divide between his cheeks. And now Qui-Gon tensed, flashing back to when the Togorian had raped him. "Kila … don't," he said.

She pulled her hand away and sighed again. "Too soon," she surmised correctly.

"Mmm," Qui-Gon agreed. Her tiny soft fingers were the antithesis of the Togorian's claws and penis, yet he'd feared violation nonetheless.

Kila gave a soft sigh then cuddled into him, resting her head on his chest and a hand on his abdomen. "We make quite a pair," she said sardonically.

"Mmm," Qui-Gon replied softly. He raised his head when he heard a door creak and saw light. "Our young guest is wandering," he said. "I'd better see what he's up to."

"No." Kila tangled her legs in his to prevent him moving, heedless of the fact that he could overpower her easily. "I need to know if he has good in him – and to do that, I have to trust him."

Qui-Gon looked at her sweet, determined face and wondered if she was going to exercise 'the pout'. "All right," he acquiesced quietly. "They're only things – they can be replaced.

Except for his holos of Ani …

He sat up slightly, not quite as willing as Kila to trust the hardened youth, and then started when there was a tap on the door. He flung the cover quickly over their nude bodies then said, "Come in."

The boy entered, his hair tousled, his eyes sleepy, and holding a glass of water. "I didn't mean to wake you," he said. "I just … needed a drink."

"We weren't asleep," Qui-Gon told the lad, looking carefully at him for evidence of subterfuge. So far, so good.

"A 'ight," the lad drawled out in gutter Corellian. "Well … night, sir. Kila."

"Good night, sweetheart," Kila said, sitting up and clutching the sheet to her.

Blushing to the roots of his hair, the lad made a strangled noise and nearly scuttled out of the room. Qui-Gon gave a soft laugh and Kila glanced at him, eyebrows raised. "The hormones are flowing," he said.

"Oh!" Kila looked down at herself. "But I'm twenty years older than him."

"Doesn't matter," Qui-Gon said certainly. "You're young _enough_ and you're no relation." He hugged her when she blushed. "And I have to admire his taste." He laughed again.

Kila stuck her tongue out at him. "I loathe you," she mumbled, sliding down the pillow and under the sheet until all he could see was the top of her head.

"Really? Somehow I doubt that." Qui-Gon burrowed under the covers and sought a plump breast, worrying a sweet pink nipple with his lips. It tightened under his ministrations and he felt her hand slide into his hair, nails scratching gently at his scalp.

She trembled and he heard a sigh issue from her, so switched his attention to the other nipple until it was just as red and taut. He kissed his way down her soft belly, stopping short of her center – she'd been distressed when he'd put his hand there, so would not respond well if he gave in to his urge to see if she tasted just as sweet there as her nipples.

He made his way back up her body then buried his face in her throat, searching out that spot that made her groan. Sure enough, a breathy moan issued from his lover, and he shifted uncomfortably as his own arousal became nearly painful in its intensity.

Soft lips rested on his forehead then Kila said, "You're … hurting."

"Yes," Qui-Gon admitted. "It's nothing I can't handle though." That was a poor choice of words, he had to admit, but he wasn't thinking too clearly right now.

"May I …?" She paused and he could feel the heat of her blush. "Could I … see it?"

Kila had of course seen him nude before, but never when he was aroused. This was a major step for her and he wasn't going to turn her down. "Of course," he said. They turned down the sheets and he rolled onto his back so that his lover could examine him.

The blush now covered her neck and breasts but she regarded him steadily, a hand resting on his thigh, very near to his manhood. That small hand ventured higher and he nodded his permission then moaned when her soft fingers stroked cautiously up his length. "So … ahh … what are you thinking?" he managed to say.

She bit her lip then smiled shyly. "It's kind of … ugly," she said.

Qui-Gon had to laugh at that – she was nothing if not truthful. "I can't argue with that," he said, trembling as her hand continued its stroking motion. "Kila … if you keep doing that I won't be able to control myself," he got out.

She blushed again, but moved her hands away to rest on his pectorals and play with the nipples. "So … it was all right? I didn't push you too far?"

"Force; no!" Qui-Gon was quick to dispel that notion. "No. You're soft and wonderful – I haven't come so close to losing control since my first experience."

"Oh." Kila pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth. "How … old were you? Your first time."

"Fifteen," Qui-Gon said. He smiled at the memory of that fumbling adolescent experience. "She was another Padawan – 17, blonde and beautiful."

"An older woman, hmm?" Kila giggled. "And it wasn't very good."

"Looking back; no," Qui-Gon admitted. "She was a virgin too – our hormones may have been ready, but our hearts and minds weren't."

"So … who?" Kila probed curiously.

"She died a long time ago during a dispute on Ansion," Qui-Gon said softly. Theirs had been an adolescent forbidden love that had lasted barely three months, but they had remained friends until she had died.

"Ah. I'm sorry," Kila said.

Qui-Gon tilted her chin up and brushed a soft kiss over her full lips. "Thank you, my love," he said. "Now … I suggest we get some sleep – we've got a busy day tomorrow." He pulled the covers back over them both and smiled when Kila snuggled her nude body into his without any hint of self-consciousness.

She rested her head on his chest and sighed deeply. "Good night, Qui-Gon," she said.

"Good night, Kila." Reaching out with the Force, Qui-Gon doused the luminater and quiet reigned in their home for the rest of the night.


	26. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER 26**

**One week later:**

Kila looked up and smiled as her unofficial ward stumbled out of his bedroom, muttering something in gutter Corellian and rubbing his eyes. "Morning," she greeted him.

"Mornin'," the lad grumbled, heading for the cooling unit.

"Sleep well?"

"Uh-huh," the lad replied – he still hadn't told them his name so Kila thought of him as Mr. Thing. "What ya doin' today?"

"I'm getting the keys to our new home – you want to come with me and pick your bedroom?" Kila said.

The brown head emerged from the cooling unit and he stared at her. "_My_ bedroom?"

Wondering if she'd pushed the wary youngster too far, Kila nodded her head. "If you want," she said.

Mr. Thing shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Sure; why not?" he said, but Kila wasn't fooled. She knew he was growing fond of both her and Qui-Gon, even though he wouldn't admit it.

"Good," Kila replied. She indicated the massive platter the lad was holding. "So … sometime after you've waded through that, we'll go and look at the new house."

The lad also needed to go to school but he would likely not go – and he couldn't be registered without a name, anyway. He showed no evidence of Force sensitivity, but appeared to be good at math and physics. Maybe he could channel his independent and restless nature into flying when he became of age. The Republic Navy would give him some discipline and a sense of belonging. But that was a long way into the future.

"A 'ight," Mr. Thing mumbled through a large piece of _kasafruit_. He sat down at the table and poured some blue milk. "Want some?" he asked.

"Thank you," Kila said, pleased at the small courtesy and determined to encourage it. He was a good kid once you got past the rough façade he wore to protect himself. She sat back and sipped her milk, watching with equal parts amusement and sorrow as Mr. Thing plowed through his massive portions. She had learned the same lesson as a slave – when there's food eat it, for you never knew when your next meal would be.

Sooner than one might have expected, the lad sat back and belched. Kila chuckled. "Careful, kid – we might think there's a bantha loose in here."

Mr. Thing rolled his eyes. "Funny," he mumbled, wiping his mouth on his sleeve before catching Kila's meaningful stares. He blushed slightly and reached for a napkin instead.

"I thought so," Kila replied brightly. "Anyway; go and clean up, kid – you look like something that's been on the receiving end of a Wookiee hug."

The lad laughed – the sound rusty, as if he hadn't laughed in many years. Probably he hadn't, Kila reminded herself. "Been there," he said, sounding a little wistful. Then the hazel eyes hardened and he stood up. "Anyway … I'll go hit the fresher," he added and nearly bolted from the living area.

Kila sighed – for a second there, she'd thought he was about to divulge a little of his past. They obviously still had a long way to go before that would happen.

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"I was thinking of _this_ room for you," Kila said an hour or so later. "It's a good size and a little away from the other bedrooms so any babies Qui-Gon and I may have won't disturb you."

"Whatever," Mr. Thing replied.

Kila sighed. "I'm not going to decide _for_ you, kid," she said. "As you pointed out, no-one owns you." She folded her arms over her chest. "So … make a kriffing decision."

Mr. Thing looked startled. "I … I like this room," he said almost shyly. "You and Qui-Gon … you … if you're wantin' babies n' such, won't I be in the way?"

"No," Kila replied. "If you decide to stay with us, you'll be family – who birthed you is irrelevant."

"Oh," the lad mouthed. "You and him … you're a 'ight ya know."

Kila grinned. "Well, _you're_ a 'ight too," she teased, patting his shoulder and smiling when he didn't flinch away. He'd evidently had _some_ parental interaction in his life. The shoulder wasn't as skinny as it had been a week ago, thanks to Kila's cooking and Qui-Gon engaging him in sports. She suspected that he would always be lean, but he'd lost that half-starved look he'd sported.

Unable to resist, she ruffled Mr. Thing's already untidy hair and chuckled when he made a half-hearted attempt at smoothing down the unruly locks. "You need a haircut, kid," she said. "Unless you want to grow it long."

"Nah," Mr. Thing replied. "It'd get in my way." Then he frowned. "Why're you goin' to all this bother for me?"

"Well, why shouldn't we? What's wrong with you?" Kila teased.

"Ah … nothing," Mr. Thing stumbled. "But … you know."

"Yes; I know." Kila relented in her teasing. Despite his world-weary attitude and street-smarts, he was still a child – a child that had trouble articulating what he felt. "It's like I said before – I'm not sure why I'm so drawn to you, but I am. You _do_ remind me of someone I met once; that's probably a part of it."

"What … will o' the Force an' all that?" The skepticism in the lad's voice was evident.

"You don't believe in the Force?"

"I don't believe in anything I can't see, touch, hear, swallow …" – he held up a snack bar. "Ain't no mystical energy field controls _my_ life."

"Such a cynic," Kila teased once more. "Anyway … I can't spend the rest of the day teasing you – as much fun as that is. You need a haircut, and then I want to start getting some things for this house."

"Shopping?" Now Mr. Thing let out a whine that made him actually sound his age.

"Deal with it, Mr. Thing," Kila retorted heartlessly. "I'm not keen on shopping either, but it needs to be done. Of course; we _could_ go and register you for school instead," she added slyly.

"Ah … no. Shopping's all right. Why'm I complaining?" the lad replied quickly, scowling when Kila giggled. "Did you just call me Mr. Thing?"

"Whoops." Kila sighed then laughed. "It's how I've been thinking of you – it just slipped out."

"Mr. _Thing_?" The lad peered at her then wandered away to look out of the window. "She's weird," Kila distinctly heard him mumble.

"I heard that!" she retorted with another laugh.

"Kriff … ears like a Klontak hound."

"I heard that too," Kila replied. She went over to the window and put her hand on Mr. Thing's shoulder. "Bit of a smart-mouth, aren't you?"

The lad grinned slightly. "Yeah," he said. He gave one of his rusty-sounding laughs. "If Shrike couldn't beat it outta me, you'll never be able to."

"Shrike …," Kila mused. Why was that name so familiar to her?

Alarm flared in Mr. Thing's eyes before he tamped it down. "You know him?"

"No … but I think I've heard of him," Kila replied. She shrugged her shoulders when a face remained elusive. "Oh well … let it go." She'd encountered so many people during her life it was surprising that she remembered as many as she did.

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**On Naboo:**

Qui-Gon and his new Padawan, Kitster Banai, exited the ship and the Padawan gave a small shiver. The young man hailed from Tatooine and had only recently decided to join the Jedi Order. At 22 Standard years, he wasn't as skilled as other Padawans his age, yet he showed a great deal of promise.

It had been over ten years since Qui-Gon had had an apprentice, and he'd had his doubts when he was asked to take on Kitster. The lad had recently lost his parents during an outbreak of rivalries between various Hutt factions on Tatooine and he grieved badly for them. However, when Qui-Gon learned that Kitster had spent all his life in Mos Espa and had been friends with Anakin Skywalker, he had gladly agreed to take on the sorrowing young man.

Now, several weeks later, he was beginning to see the fruits of his labor. Kitster was a smart lad, obedient and thoughtful, not given to overt displays of emotion. "It's cold, Master," Kitster said now, wrapping his cloak around his shivering form.

Qui-Gon smiled down at him. "You're desert-bred," he said. "Anything below scorching will seem cold to you." He laughed. "My betrothed came from Tatooine also – even after five years she hasn't adjusted."

"You're betrothed, Master?" Kitster sounded surprised. "I … forgive me. I know we are allowed to form attachments, but I wouldn't have thought …"

"That someone as ancient as I could fall in love?" Qui-Gon asked impishly and watched as the Padawan's face turned several shades of red.

"I … no; that's not what I meant," the younger man stumbled. "I …"

Qui-Gon waved his hand. "I take no offense," he said. "Truth be told; until I met Kila, I'd never thought I could love so deeply. But she's an amazing woman and makes me very happy."

"Then I'm glad for you, Master," Kitster said, regaining his customary composure. He paused and blushed slightly. "May I ask your advice?"

"Of course."

"There's another Padawan I care for," Kitster continued. "I've never had a problem with approaching women, but _this_ girl … She's so different. Fun and silly. We have great times together but she doesn't seem to realize how I … I love her."

"Who is she?"

"Her name's Ahoska. Ahoska Tano." Kitster gave a besotted sigh. "She's so tiny and sweet – yet feisty and snippy too."

"Padawan Tano …" Qui-Gon shook his head with a small smile. "You're several years premature for her, Kitster. Togruta childhood is longer than a human's – by her terms, she's still a pre-adolescent. Boys are at best playmates and at worst pests."

"Oh." Kitster looked crestfallen. "She doesn't look like a child though."

"Unfortunately, no," Qui-Gon agreed. Togruta of Ahoska's age were vulnerable to sexual predators as they looked like adults but weren't. "If you truly care for her, you'll remain friends with her. Then in five or six years time, she may see you in a different light."

Kitster gave another sigh. "Thank you for telling me, Master," he said. "I can wait for her – she's worth it."

Qui-Gon clapped the younger man's shoulder. "Good man," he said then straightened up as Governor Sio Bibble and Queen Jamillia approached him. "Your Highness," he greeted the young Nubian.

"Welcome back to Naboo, Master Jinn," the Queen returned, clasping his hands warmly. "It has been too long."

"Indeed," Qui-Gon acknowledged. "May I present Padawan Kitster Banai?"

"Your Highness," Kitster said quietly.

"Welcome to Naboo, Padawan Banai – is this your first visit to our world?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Kitster said with a small shiver.

"Forgive my Padawan, Your Highness," Qui-Gon said. "He comes from a desert world with twin suns and hasn't adapted yet."

"No apologies are necessary," the Queen said. "Shall we proceed to my chambers? We have much to discuss and there are warm fireplaces there." This with a mischievous twinkle to the young Padawan.

Qui-Gon smiled, recalling the young Queen's teasing of Obi-Wan during his convoluted courtship of Padmé. "An excellent suggestion," he said, nodding to the quiet Governor Bibble. "Governor."

"Master Jinn," Bibble responded.

The party turned and made their way back to the palace, the Queen slipping her hand through Qui-Gon's arm when he would have walked respectfully behind her. "I understand congratulations are in order, Master Jinn," she said.

"How did you …?" Then he realized. "Senator Amidala."

"But of course. A Queen has sources of intelligence everywhere." The Queen squeezed his arm. "I'm very happy for you, Master Jinn. You're a good man and you deserve to be loved. I just hope she's worthy of you."

Qui-Gon blushed slightly, uncomfortable with such fulsome praise. "She's a wonderful, beautiful woman," he said. "But I don't believe we were asked to come here to discuss my impending nuptials."

The laughter left the Queen's face and she sighed. "No; unfortunately not," she said. "But I would prefer to discuss it in less … open surroundings."

"Of course, Your Highness," Qui-Gon acquiesced.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Several hours into the shopping, Kila noticed that Mr. Thing's eyes had started to glaze over and she smiled slightly. "Well, I don't know about you, kid, but I could do with a sit-down and something to eat."

"I could eat," the lad replied.

"You can _always_ eat," Kila shot back. "I'm beginning to think that you're just a bottomless pit."

The lad smirked then indicated a small café. "How about here?" he said.

"Why not?" Kila replied – it was far enough away from Dex's that she didn't think of it as competition and therefore didn't feel guilty. She opened the door and recoiled as smoke hit her full in the face. Lucky her – she'd found one of the few public eateries where customers were allowed to smoke. "That's why not," she coughed, exiting rapidly. "Let's find somewhere a bit less … smoky, shall we?"

Mr. Thing shrugged. "A 'ight." Then he indicated a swoop transport stop. "There's a swoop due in a coupla minutes that'll get us near to Dex's."

"Good man." Kila squeezed his shoulder and smiled when he didn't flinch. Although he'd claimed that shopping bored him, they'd become closer over those hours of mutual boredom. Although to hear the way they talked to each other, no-one would think that. The lad was smart-mouthed and so was Kila – it made for some interesting conversations.

The swoop pulled up and Kila ushered Mr. Thing aboard, paying the fares demanded. The swoop jerked as it took off and Kila staggered as she hadn't found a seat. Mr. Thing grabbed her by the upper arms and steadied her. "Y'okay?" he asked in his rough chivalry.

Kila chuckled. "I'm fine – just a bit clumsy, you know."

"No, you ain't," the lad retorted. "That pilot shoulda waited. What if you'd hurt yourself?"

Kila smiled slightly and sat down next to the lad. "Kriff; another overprotective male in my life," she teased. "As if Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Dex weren't enough."

Mr. Thing shrugged his shoulders. "Well … you been good to me," he said lamely, his cheeks going pink. "I ain't stupid enough to let you get hurt – Qui-Gon would pound me into the ground."

"He wouldn't," Kila protested. "He may be big and powerful, but he's a gentle giant."

"Anyone can do bad stuff," the lad replied. "He just _chooses_ not to."

Kila thought that over – recalled that Qui-Gon _had_ come close to the Dark Side more than once in his life – and nodded her head. "You're pretty smart," she said.

"Yeah … well … On the streets the dumb don't survive," Mr. Thing stated in a matter of fact manner.

"Mmm," Kila agreed soberly. She'd been incredibly lucky that Dex had taken her in – she'd had nowhere near the level of street-smarts of Mr. Thing.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon sipped at his _kevas_, mulling over the unwelcome news that the Queen had just given him. Since the abrupt cessation of the war against the Separatists, the Trade Federation had withdrawn to the outer fringes of Republic space, seeming to content themselves with levying relatively reasonable rates for trade to the outer systems. For them to have re-established themselves this close to core worlds was a bold move for an inherently cowardly group of beings.

They'd occupied Naboo more than a decade ago, but then they'd had the backing of the then Senator Palpatine. After his death and subsequent unmasking as the Sith Lord Sidious, their foundations and their collective might had collapsed. The majority of the clone troopers had been found and reprogrammed, and were being encouraged in the development of their individuality. So … without Sidious and the might of the clones, where had they gotten the courage to move so close to the core?

"Naboo is peaceful," the Queen was saying, linking her fingers together and staring down at them as if they held the answers she sought. "We have no armies, very few means of defense. They were able to occupy us before – with very little resistance. I do not want history to repeat itself." She looked up from her hands and regarded Qui-Gon gravely. "I understand that you are keepers of the peace, not soldiers, but can we rely on your support should we be invaded once more?"

"You'd be better off learning to defend yourselves," Padawan Banai – hitherto silent – opined.

"Padawan!" Qui-Gon said sharply. "You forget yourself. Mind your place."

"My apologies," Kitster replied without sounding at all apologetic.

The Queen merely inclined her head. "Your Padawan has a point – however rudely made," she said. "But it is pointless to dwell on what might have been. We are not a fighting people, Master Jinn, and I ask for the Jedi's help once more."

"You shall have it, Your Highness," Qui-Gon promised, glancing at his red-faced Padawan.

The Queen smiled – an action that rendered her otherwise ordinary face quite lovely – and rested her small hand on Qui-Gon's larger battle-roughened one. "Thank you, Master Jinn," she said. "And with business out of the way, let us discuss more pleasurable matters."

"Such as …?"

"Such as your nuptials." Queen Jamillia patted Qui-Gon's hand. "You have done so much for Naboo – you were nearly killed in our defense. I would like to repay you."

"That's really not necessary, Your Highness," Qui-Gon protested, going slightly pink.

"I know, but I want to," the Queen returned mildly. "I know Jedi have very little money – therefore, I'd like to offer the use of my estate in the lake country of Varykino for your honeymoon. It's beautiful and isolated, and very romantic if Padmé Amidala is to be believed." She gave a mischievous smile at that. "Padmé Kenobi I should say. Please accept."

"Then I will," Qui-Gon said. "On behalf of Kila and myself; thank you very much."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila and Mr. Thing entered Dex's just as the rain began to patter down. Rain wasn't common in this part of Coruscant at this time of year, and she rolled her eyes. It looked like the weather net was having problems again. "Hi, Dex!" She waved at the massive Besalisk, busy as usual in the kitchen.

"Hi, Sweetness!" the Besalisk yelled back over the chatter of his waitresses. "Be quiet for one second, you gossiping harpies!" he thundered.

In the stunned silence that overcame the entire diner, Dex heaved his massive form out of the kitchen and made his way over to Kila and Mr. Thing. "Hello, Sweetness," he said in a softer tone, using all four of his arms to pull Kila into a hug.

She returned the hug with interest, patting Dex's side – her arms weren't long enough to extend around his meaty back. "How are you, Dex?" she asked.

"Can't complain," the Besalisk returned. "We miss your Sweetcakes, girl, but other than that …" He extended one of his arms out to Mr. Thing and shook his hand. "You got a name yet, young 'un?" he added with a grin.

"Mr. Thing," the lad said with a smirk aimed at Kila.

"Mr. Thing?" Dex echoed, and then shook his head. "You humans are very strange."

"I won't argue with that," Kila said cheerfully and returned Mr. Thing's smirk. "I've been calling him that in my head – it just slipped out this morning."

"You're a bit young to be goin' senile already, Sweetness," Dex said, letting Kila out of the hug and ushering her and Mr. Thing to an unoccupied booth as the noise levels returned to their customary muted roar. "So … Togrutian nerf pie and caf for you, and a bantha burger and blue milk for Mr. Thing?"

Kila raised her eyebrows at Mr. Thing and he shrugged, which she took as assent. "Sounds good, Dex," she said.

Dex turned to holler the order at a waitress and Kila smiled when a small mousy-looking creature poked her head timidly out of the kitchen. She smiled and nodded then whisked away to get the food. It looked as if Dex had adopted yet another stray – the dear man.

The small timid-looking woman reappeared moments later with a tray in her hands. Kila could see her bite her lip then heave a great sigh – as if shoring up her courage. She came over to Kila's table and gave them their orders in silence, offered another smile then whisked away once more.

"That's … that was my newest waitress," Dex said, sitting down next to Kila. "She's nearly as sweet as you, but she doesn't cook half as well."

"Young …," Kila mused.

"Bout 20 Standard, near's I can figure," Dex replied gruffly. "She needed work and I needed the help so … why not?"

"Dex; you can't fool me," Kila said fondly, cutting into her pie. "You can growl and bluster as much as you want, but I know you're just a big softy."

"Eat, Sweetness – hunger's makin' you delirious," Dex denied roughly. He squeezed her shoulder gently with one giant hand then heaved his bulk out of the booth. "Anyway; I can't stand here an' chat all day with you – cookin' to be done, waitresses to be scared spitless."

"Scared spitless …," Kila murmured scornfully. He really _was_ just a big softy at heart – she'd known that the day she'd met him.


	27. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER 27**

**Two weeks later:**

Qui-Gon opened the door to his new home and was assailed by the smell of cooking, the chaos of unpacked boxes, and the sounds of laughter.

Two weeks.

In two weeks, the laughing woman and he would be married. And unless he was sadly mistaken, he would also gain a son. The gangling lad had finally entrusted them with his name a couple of days ago and Qui-Gon and Kila had begun the lengthy process of tracking down any kin. Unfortunately, Solo was a common family name on Corellia and so far their efforts had proven fruitless.

A small part of Qui-Gon knew that if he really wanted to give up Han, he could call in the many favors people professed to owe him. But the lanky smart-mouthed youth had found a place in his heart. He would never replace Anakin, but he had earned his _own_ place.

Following the sounds of the laughter, he went into Han's bedroom and found him and Kila wrestling with an unwieldy piece of furniture. The young lad was growing strong, but it would be many years before his frame caught up with those big feet.

"Is there a reason you couldn't have waited until I came home?" he asked mildly, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe.

A squeak issued from his betrothed and she turned to face him, swiping a hand over her flushed and sweating face. "I'm stronger than I look and so's Mr. Thing." That appellation had stuck, although it was now more of a pet name.

"But not strong enough." Qui-Gon deliberately puffed out his chest. "It's a good job I got here when I did – I'll take care of it." He waved a hand negligently at her. "Stand aside."

Kila narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, fine," she teased. "Come here, Han; let's let the big strong man do it."

Qui-Gon grinned, eyed the large bed then closed his eyes and called on the Force. The bed lifted into the air and, with careful guidance from Qui-Gon, moved over to the window. "Is here good for you?" he asked of the slack-jawed young Corellian.

"Ah … huh … what?" Han croaked. "Krank _me_," he finally blurted out.

The lad had quite the gutter mouth. "Language," Kila chided, slapping Han's shoulder reprovingly.

"Ah … what? Oh. Sorry," Han mumbled then shook his head. "Uhh … yeah. The window's good."

Qui-Gon lowered the bed and made a show of mopping his dry, unflushed brow. "There you go," he said.

"Smug son-of-a …," Kila muttered, seeming to catch herself before finishing the common phrase. Since learning of her heritage, she tended to flinch when hearing references to the Sith. She was still fighting the darkness and some days she was very afraid that it would engulf her.

Han had recovered quickly from seeing furniture levitating through the room, and now began to make up the bed. The rough and tumble lad was surprisingly domesticated.

Kila pouted at Qui-Gon one more time then crossed the room and slipped her arms around his waist. "Hi," she said simply.

"Hi," he echoed, slipping his own arms around her as she cuddled into him.

"Any news?" she added, nodding to the oblivious Han.

"Not yet," Qui-Gon said. "We just have to be patient."

"Mmm," Kila sighed into his chest. She squeezed him then released him. "I have to admit," she said in lower tones, "it won't exactly break my heart if we _don't_ find any kin." She sighed once more. "I know he's only been with us for a few weeks, but I love him very much."

"As do I," Qui-Gon affirmed, dropping a gentle kiss on to his betrothed's lips and reflecting just how well they suited each other.

Two weeks. Just two weeks.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

A deep rumble issued from Qui-Gon's throat and Kila chuckled. "Are you purring?" she teased.

"I'm a man, not a feline," Qui-Gon replied. "I don't purr."

"Whatever you say," Kila said disbelievingly. That deep noise had sounded very much like a purr to her. She nuzzled her lips into the hollow of his throat and that rumbling sigh issued once more. She giggled. "You want to retract that last statement?" she added teasingly.

"Wicked woman," Qui-Gon replied, sliding his arms around her and lifting her up so that they were face to face. He brushed a gentle kiss over her lips, and then set her back down.

Kila smirked. "Thank you," she said. "I still maintain that you purr, though."

"Of course you do," Qui-Gon sighed, keeping his arms around her. "You know … the Chancellor actually told me today that we look cute together."

"Cute?" Kila echoed. "Aren't we a bit old to be cute?"

Qui-Gon squeezed her gently. "Well … I certainly am," he said.

"No kidding," Kila agreed. "Cute isn't a word that springs to mind when I look at you. Powerful, handsome, sexy, definitely. But cute? No."

A groan came from where Han was patting down his bed covers. "D'you _have_ to?" he almost whined.

"Yes," Kila replied cheerfully. "Flirting is fun – you'll find that out soon enough."

"But you're gettin' married soon!"

"And that means we have to stop flirting and teasing?" Kila laughed. "I truly hope that's _not_ the case."

"As do I," Qui-Gon said. "But we'll take it out of your room, Han."

"Appreciated," the boy grumbled, a little pink on the cheeks still.

Kila laughed again as she ushered Qui-Gon out of Han's bedroom with rapid but gentle pats to his rear. "Come on, old man – let's get out of range of the delicate ears."

"You're torturing that poor child," Qui-Gon said, making his way to the kitchen and switching on the heating unit. "_Kevas_?"

"Well, why _have_ children if you can't torment them once in a while?" Kila shot back, putting her arms around Qui-Gon's slim waist from behind and resting her cheek on his back. "And _kevas_ will be lovely, thanks." She chuckled suddenly. "I can't imagine Chancellor Organa using such a word as cute," she added.

Qui-Gon returned the laugh. "He was trying to make me blush," he said. Then he heaved a sigh. "It worked, too. I thought you were the only one who could make me blush that hard."

"Well, it's nice to know I can rely on the Chancellor to torment you if I'm not around," Kila said lightly, slipping her hands inside his shirt and exploring the soft warm skin of his abdomen. "Mmmm …"

"Brat," Qui-Gon shot back, although a hitch in his breathing indicated that maybe he wasn't as calm as his tone implied. He turned, dislodging her hands from his tight abdomen, and handed her a cup of the steaming liquid.

"Thank you," Kila replied with another smirk.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Several hours later, they made their way back to the Jedi Temple, all now tired after a great deal of hard work. Han – who had still some way to go before attaining peak condition – stumbled and let out a jaw-cracking yawn. "Ya mind if I skip dinner?" he said. "I just …" – he yawned again and blushed brightly. "I just wanna sleep."

"Go ahead," Kila said, feeling guilty that she hadn't realized that the lad had overdone things today. She patted his shoulder then kissed his cheek. "Good night, love," she added.

Qui-Gon kissed Han's cheek also and gave him one of his hearty hugs. "Good night," he echoed warmly.

"G'night, guys," Han mumbled, flushing to the roots of his hair once more – he was still uncomfortable with the physical affection being shown on a daily basis, but no longer shied away from it.

He stumbled groggily into his bedroom and the door closed behind him. Kila bit her lip. "I think I pushed him too hard," she said guiltily. "I wish he'd said something sooner."

"It's something that he managed to admit it now," Qui-Gon said. "He's a very proud young man and the street life had no room for any kind of weakness."

"Mmm … I suppose so," Kila said then yawned herself. "Actually, I'm pretty tired too, come to think of it."

Now Qui-Gon yawned also. "Let's just have something light and then turn in," he suggested.

"To what?" Kila shot back.

"Oh, you're just full of wickedness today, aren't you?" Qui-Gon said. "As a Jedi, I'm honor-bound to fight wickedness wherever I come across it."

"Big bully." Kila danced out of his reach and pulled an extraordinary face at him. "I'm not afraid of you."

Then she shrieked when he dropped to a knee and hauled her over his shoulder, delivering a firm swat to her rear. "Beast!" she cried playfully, but couldn't work up too much indignation. Her unusual position _did_ afford her a very nice view of Qui-Gon's rear end after all.

She returned the swat and he yelped then jostled her as he made his way to their bedroom. "I wouldn't try that again if I were you, My Lady," he teased. "After all, you're in a far more precarious position than I am."

"You won't drop me," Kila said confidently, despite the rush of blood flowing to her head. She curved her hands over his rear end and squeezed. "Oooh … _nice_," she opined.

"Thank you," Qui-Gon replied mildly. It was hard to tell in her current position, but he sounded embarrassed. Before she had to throw up he deposited her gracelessly onto their bed, and laughed – presumably at her red cheeks and ruffled hair. "I hope you learned your lesson, you evil wench," he said, striking a dramatic pose.

Kila sat up and grabbed his waistband, yanking him down onto the bed with her – only a quick twist from him prevented him from landing right on her. She didn't realize just how close she'd come to being squashed by Qui-Gon's big body – so intent was she on ridding him of his air by taking it all in an oxygen-depriving kiss.

She darted her tongue into his mouth and engaged his tongue in battle. Dancing, twirling, tangling, caressing … Gods, he tasted good! A combination of _kevas_ and something savory that she couldn't identify.

Suddenly, his hands burrowed up inside her shirt and Qui-Gon wrapped his strong arms around her waist, using the element of surprise to flip her so that she sprawled along his long frame. "Better?" she asked him a little breathlessly. She sometimes forgot just how strong he was – his inherent gentleness somehow made his big powerful frame far less imposing.

"Much better," Qui-Gon chuckled, sliding his hands up her sides then resting them on the outer curves of her breasts. His thumbs rubbed over her nipples and she sucked in a breath as they responded eagerly.

With his assistance she was soon rid of her clothing and turned onto her back as he shed his _own_ clothing. Her hands delved into his soft hair as his lips anointed her breasts and nipples with moist hot kisses. His tongue laved over a nipple and it tightened further, causing a corresponding tightening low in her belly.

Qui-Gon then switched his attention to her other nipple until it was as tight and red as its twin. Then he kissed his way down her body, pausing when he came to the juncture of her thighs.

Kila's face flamed and an innate fear of the unknown had her pressing her thighs tightly together as Qui-Gon brushed gentle kisses across her upper thighs, hovering close to her center but never touching it.

The clenching sensation in her belly increased when her betrothed pressed a soft kiss to the curls covering her center and her legs parted almost of their own volition. "Qui-Gon …," she murmured, her hands going to his head – whether to pull him closer or push him away, she couldn't decide.

"Easy, my love," Qui-Gon soothed, placing a delicate kiss to her inner thigh. "Are you all right?"

"I … I think so," Kila got out as he kissed her other inner thigh. "This feels … nice," she added shakily, and then gasped when she felt what had to be Qui-Gon's tongue probing the soft flesh covering her center. Her thighs slammed closed and Qui-Gon yelped. "Please … don't," she said in distress as he pulled free. She knew the technique – had witnessed the flesh workers performing this act for their clients. It therefore had no pleasurable connotations for her.

Qui-Gon looked up at her and nodded his head. "All right," he said gently. He made his way back up her body and rested his cheek on one of her breasts. "I'm sorry," he added.

Kila threaded her fingers through his silver locks. "Me too," she said in frustration. Every time she and Qui-Gon took a step closer toward physical union, something made her panic and pull back. And no matter how patient and giving Qui-Gon was, this had to be growing very wearisome for him. It certainly was for her!

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon pushed his face deeper in between his lover's magnificent breasts and heaved a contented sigh as her nails scratched gently at his scalp. At 73 Standard years, he was past the room-rocking headboard-banging marathons of even a decade ago – he'd found that the togetherness was often more fulfilling than the explosions.

Kila might never be comfortable with being tasted so intimately, and he would never force her. Her chest gave a stuttering heave under his head and he realized with dismay that she was crying. He lifted off of her then pulled her into his arms. "Ssh, ssh …," he soothed. "It's all right; it's all right."

"Gods … sorry!" his betrothed sniffled. "You deserve so much more than this."

"What's more than a loving curvy smart-mouthed brat who makes me feel things I've never felt for anyone?" Qui-Gon replied lightly, lifting her chin up and brushing away the teardrops.

Kila gave a cross between a giggle and a sob then tucked her face into Qui-Gon's neck, taking a deep shuddering breath. "I love you so much," she said into his neck, anointing the skin with soft kisses. "And you taste good too."

"As do you," Qui-Gon said, savoring the sweet musky essence of her on his tongue. She wasn't perfect by any means – he wasn't so in love that he couldn't see that – but she fit with him so well.

A knock sounded on the door and Qui-Gon pulled the sheet over himself and Kila before saying; "Come in, Han."

The door opened and the Corellian leaned in, hazel eyes narrowed. "You okay, Kila?" he asked gruffly.

"Of course," Kila said gently.

"It sounded like you were cryin'," the lad said suspiciously. "I might be a kid but I'm not stupid." He turned the suspicious stare onto Qui-Gon then looked back at Kila with a slightly softer expression. "You _sure_ you're a 'ight?"

Kila gave a fond laugh. "I'm sure, sweetheart," she said. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

"Well … if you're sure," Han said. He fixed Qui-Gon with another suspicious stare then made his way back out of the room.

"Oh, Force … did he think you were hurting me?" Kila sighed and snuggled back into Qui-Gon's body.

"Yes," Qui-Gon replied simply. The lad was far more wary of males than he was of females but _had_ been responding to Qui-Gon's loving patience. Now they had taken a step backward in their relationship. He returned his betrothed's sigh, which turned into a smile when she pressed her lips into the hollow of his throat.

"So we'll start again," Kila said, stroking a small hand down his side in a gesture of comfort. "I'm not about to give up on him."

"Nor I," Qui-Gon affirmed. He slipped a hand down to her face then tilted it up so that he could deposit a soft kiss on her lips. "And that's a promise."

Kila smiled then returned the kiss. "And that's _my_ promise to you," she said. She sighed once more then patted his chest. "Well … I don't know about you, but I could eat something." She got up, now seeming quite unself-conscious about being nude in front of Qui-Gon, and then wriggled into a sleep shirt and stuffed her feet into her slippers. She went back over to the bed and extended her hand to Qui-Gon. "You want something to eat, old man?"

He grinned at how the insult had somehow become a term of endearment, then took her hand and heaved himself out of the bed, following his lover's lead and donning a sleep shirt. Together they headed out to the increasingly empty kitchen and he switched on the heating unit for _kevas_ while Kila rooted in the cooling unit.

"_Kasafruit_ and flatbread?" she asked, holding up said items.

"Yes, please," Qui-Gon replied, unable to wipe off what he thought was an immensely sappy smile as he watched his lover and wife-to-be putter in the small kitchen.

"That's an extremely sappy smile you're wearing," Kila said, confirming his suspicions.

"What can I say; you bring out the sap in me," Qui-Gon returned lightly. He caught her as she passed and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, placing a kiss on her forehead.

Kila laughed and moved a hand to pat his rear end. "Natural talent," she teased. "The best teacher in the galaxy can't bring out what isn't there."

Qui-Gon paused on his way to pressing another kiss on his lover's forehead. Now why did that sound so familiar? He shrugged and dismissed the question when Kila tilted her head up and sought out his lips with her own.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Her demand satisfied – for now at least – Kila released her betrothed and sent him back to the _kevas_ with a gentle swat to the rear. Her hand lingered too long to remain a swat, and she squeezed the firm round musculature. "Nice," she opined. "Very, very nice."

He turned back from the counter and extended a long arm to pat then squeeze her own round – somewhat less firm – rear. "More than nice," he said. "Round, sweet and so enticing."

"Aw, are you two at it _again_?" a familiar voice complained and Han hove into view looking simultaneously sleepy and disgusted. An interesting combination.

"Yes," Qui-Gon confirmed cheerfully, patting Kila's rump one more time, and then turning back to fix the _kevas_.

"I thought you were supposed to be tired?" Kila inquired of the bleary-eyed youth who bumbled unsteadily into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes.

"I am," the lad yawned. "But I can't sleep. Weird."

They'd had a very busy day with a lot of hard work – the boy was too keyed-up to sleep. "Well … we're having some _kasafruit_ and flatbread," Kila said, indicating the light meal she'd put together. "Care to join us?"

Han cast a wary look at Qui-Gon's broad back then looked at Kila with those hazel eyes that remained unnervingly sharp. "Yeah, a 'ight," he said.

He sat down next to Kila and took a large piece of the _kasafruit_, smearing some of the juices down his chin. "S'good," he offered around another gargantuan mouthful.

"Manners," Kila chided as he was about to wipe his hand over his face. She handed him a napkin to use instead, pretending she didn't notice the way he shuffled closer to her when Qui-Gon sat down at her other side. The lad had a very strong protective streak – Gods help any younger siblings that might come along!


	28. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER 28**

**Two weeks later:**

Kila lifted her hand to Qui-Gon's face and brought it down so that their lips met. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said.

"Indeed," Qui-Gon replied softly, stroking his large hand down her cheek. He sighed and stepped back. "Anyway, I should get going – see what kind of havoc our son has managed to wreak in my absence."

Kila grinned at that. Han was a good lad and meant well, but he was entering the gangly clumsy phase that seemed to characterize adolescence in human males – all arms and legs and big feet. Not a day went by where he didn't trip over, bump into or knock down something or other. "All right – good idea," she acknowledged. She ushered him away with a swat to the rear. "Go," she ordered.

"Yes, Milady," Qui-Gon said mournfully, bowed deeply then backed away from Kila, bowing and scraping the entire time until he was out of sight.

Kila giggled. "What a fool," she mumbled then pressed the chime.

Padmé opened the door and took Kila's bags from her, passing them to her long-suffering husband before giving Kila a hug. "Nervous?" she asked, drawing Kila into the living room.

Obi-Wan disappeared with Kila's bags as Kila pondered the question. "No," she finally decided. "My wedding's going to be quite a bit quieter than yours – I'm no media darling."

"But still … it's a big change," Padmé said, catching her husband's hand as he went past and giving it a squeeze.

Obi-Wan sat down next to Padmé. "As long as you're happy, Kila – that's all that matters," he said. "In some ways you're like a little sister to me; I want your happiness."

"I'm happy," Kila assured her friends easily. "We love each other very much and I can't wait for us to become husband and wife."

It was true, too. Over the last couple of weeks, she and Qui-Gon had gotten physically much closer. Kila shivered slightly, recalling soft lips, scratchy whiskers and sure knowing hands on her breasts and nipples. All had worked together to arouse in her sensations she had never felt before. Yet something had made her cringe away when he'd tried to explore her center, and he'd stopped immediately.

"Kila!"

Kila blinked back to her surroundings to see Padmé waving madly at her. "Sorry – mind wandered," she apologized with a blush.

"Mmm," Padmé agreed with raised eyebrows. She nudged Kila. "One will get you ten you were thinking about Qui-Gon," she teased.

"Well, I _am_ marrying the man tomorrow," Kila said mildly, immensely pleased when she didn't blush. "It would be a bit strange if I _wasn't_ thinking of him."

Obi-Wan chuckled lightly. "I never thought I'd see my practical quiet little Kila almost giddy over some male," he offered.

Kila drooped her eyelid in a lazy wink at Padmé then replied; "Well, the things that particular male can _do_ … I wouldn't be right in the head if he didn't make me at least a little giddy."

Obi-Wan blanched slightly. "A little too much information there," he said calmly then belied that calm by getting up and leaving the living area as if an entire tribe of Tusken Raiders was chasing him.

"Evil," Padmé accused, pointing her finger at Kila and then laughing.

"He's one of my best friends – if I can't torture him then why keep him around?" Kila retorted with her own laugh.

"That's why _I_ keep him around – I'll admit that," Padmé opined. She turned Kila to face her. "Are you losing weight?" she added a propos of nothing.

Kila nodded her head. "A little," she said, patting the lately diminished rise of her tummy. She chuckled suddenly. "Unfortunately I never seem to lose anything up here" – she indicated her generous breasts – "but Qui-Gon would be broken-hearted if these shrank." She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes he's such a … a _male_."

"They're a strange species," Padmé agreed, "but life wouldn't be half so interesting without them."

"I meant to thank you, by the way, for letting me stay over tonight." Kila changed the subject. "Qui-Gon thinks I've lost my mind but I feel better for following _some_ of my people's traditions."

"Oh, you're quite welcome," Padmé said, leaning over and pouring three steaming cups of _kevas_. "Obi?" she called with a grin. "It's safe to come out now."

Obi-Wan appeared almost immediately from wherever he'd been, looking affronted. "I wasn't hiding," he said.

"Of course you weren't," Padmé laughed. "_Kevas_?"

"Yes, please," Obi-Wan replied. "And I wasn't hiding – I just …" Then he sighed. "All right," he acquiesced. "I was hiding. Qui-Gon is like my father and you're like my sister …"

They all made a face as the twisted relationship permeated their minds. Obi-Wan gave a little wriggle then continued gamely on. "You know what I mean."

"Yes," Kila said, taking pity on the man who wore a blush she seldom saw. She actually felt a little sorry for him. "I'm sorry I embarrassed you," she added, putting her arm around him in a friendly hug.

"At least I finally understand why Qui-Gon calls you a brat so frequently," Obi-Wan offered with an impish grin.

"Brat. Old man. They've actually become terms of endearment," Kila said, bemused.

Obi-Wan chuckled and sipped his _kevas_. "I've known Qui-Gon a long time," he said. "I did worry at one point that he was genuinely starting to think of himself as an old man, but then …"

"Then?" Kila queried with raised brows when he didn't finish the sentence.

"Then he met you," Obi-Wan stated. "You're so good for each other."

"You weren't trying to match-make that day you brought him into Dex's, were you?" Kila inquired suspiciously.

Obi-Wan smiled slightly and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm afraid so," he replied mildly. "Padmé would call me a soppy romantic, but I always thought you and he would suit each other so well. However, I knew you weren't ready for a long time."

"Oh." Kila sipped her steaming _kevas_. "Well … all right," she accepted. "I can't say I like the idea but I know you meant well. And you're right too – I _wasn't_ ready when I was younger."

"I know," Obi-Wan replied. "I'm just glad it worked out. You're such a strong, passionate pair – it could have been a disaster, yet I've never seen you happier."

"I hadn't realized I was so easy to read," Kila said with interest. So much for her early efforts to remain unnoticed!

"Sorry, but you are," Padmé put in, leaning into Obi-Wan and putting her feet on a handy ottoman. "And I don't have any Jedi abilities."

"No, but you're a politician," Obi-Wan pointed out. "You wouldn't get very far in the Senate if you couldn't read people to a degree."

"I'm impressed," Padmé offered.

"At my brilliant insight?"

"At the fact that you managed to use the word politician without gagging," Padmé shot back.

Kila spluttered on her _kevas_ at that barb – having known Obi-Wan for over three years now, she was very familiar with his views on politicians. "Oh, khest – sorry!" she exclaimed, grabbing a napkin and dabbing hastily at her chin and nose.

Obi-Wan's mouth twitched and his eyes crinkled. "You slay me," he said dryly, patting his wife's knee and then taking a larger mouthful of his _kevas_. He then got to his feet and extended a hand to Kila. "Let me show you where you'll be sleeping tonight."

Kila took his hand and bobbed a small curtsy. "Thank you, good sir," she said then followed him along a small passageway.

Obi-Wan indicated an open door to Kila's right. "It's small but nice and restful," he said as Kila took in the soft furnishings in gentle colors. "And the sun rises on this side of the building. I know you like to watch the sunrise."

"Thank you." Kila surprised herself _and_ Obi-Wan by giving him another quick hug. Theirs was a close friendship but neither was prone to be physically demonstrative with the other. Obi-Wan was rather reserved and Kila until recently had been a little nervous of men courtesy of her beatings from Gardulla's henchmen.

Obi-Wan returned the hug then stepped backward. "That door to the right of the bed leads to the fresher – sonics _and_ water." His eyes twinkled. "You're a desert rat – I know how much you love your water showers."

"Mmm," Kila agreed, peeking into the fresher and noting the deep bathtub. She gave a little skip of glee. "You may need a crowbar to get me out of there," she said. Hot baths were a luxury – both on water-poor Tatooine and here on Coruscant where much of the planet's water was generated by the weather net.

"Indeed. Well, if you linger too long I'll send Padmé in after you – I certainly don't want to see you nude."

Kila was in an especially evil mood tonight and her usual targets were miles away. She folded her arms over her chest and speared the unsuspecting Jedi with a narrow stare. "And what's wrong with me that seeing me nude would be such a horrific experience?" she inquired.

"There's nothing _wrong_ with you," Obi-Wan blurted out. "But there are boundaries I'd never cross with a friend – even as good a friend as you are …" Then he sighed and shook his head. "I must be losing my touch," he said. "I used to be able to tell when you were tormenting me merely for the fun of it."

Kila giggled and began unpacking one of her bags. "I'm sure Padmé does an admirable job in my stead," she offered lightly.

"Obi-torture – it's a sport I enjoy very much," Padmé said, coming into the bedroom and slipping an arm around her husband's waist.

Obi-Wan tugged at some of Padmé's hair. "I must not beat my pregnant wife. I must not beat my pregnant wife," he intoned dramatically, making both girls giggle. Which caused him to roll his eyes. "I'm feeling very out-numbered here," he said. "I think I'll go and visit Qui-Gon – console him on his last day as a bachelor."

And with that parting shot, he was gone.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Two hours later:**

Qui-Gon looked up from his book and sent an affectionate smile at Han's untidy brown head, which was bent over his _own_ book. Although he'd never learned to read, the lad was smart and would soon be level with his peers. In the meantime, he was being tutored by Mace Windu, whom he held in sufficient awe that he would actually do what he was told.

Qui-Gon had offered to tutor the lad himself but Han had expressed his discomfort at showing his ignorance to someone who was "like a Dad" to him. Stunned at the compliment, Qui-Gon had accepted Han's reasoning, and was very grateful that Mace had offered to fill the gap. Han needed as many good adult role models as he could get after all.

"What's this word?"

Qui-Gon looked at the word then shook his head. "Sound it out," he instructed the lad. "Don't be so lazy."

With a martyred sigh, Han took the book back and laboriously mouthed the letters to himself. Then he tossed the book onto the settee and got up. "I'm hungry," he announced. "You want something to eat while I'm gettin'?"

Qui-Gon smiled up at Han. "No, but thank you," he said. "Just leave some sweetcake for Kila."

"Kriff; yeah," Han said. "Ain't no-one should get between her and the sweetcake!"

Qui-Gon chuckled at the accurate – albeit inelegant – observation. Kila was frighteningly possessive where her sweet tooth was concerned. Qui-Gon had never had much of a sweet tooth, but had started to appreciate desserts courtesy of their passionate kisses. There was, after all, nothing quite like tasting sweetcake on Kila's lips and tongue.

"Hey, Qui-Gon!"

Qui-Gon pulled himself back from his mildly erotic musings to see Han standing over him. "I'm sorry; what was that?" he asked.

"A drink. You want one?"

Han eyed him like he was going senile and Qui-Gon chuckled inwardly. "_Kevas_ would be lovely, thanks," he said, reflecting that despite his rough edges, Han would make someone a rather good husband one day. He was caring, protective, funny and quite domesticated – especially for someone who'd been knocking about the streets of Coruscant for Force knows how long!

His stomach rumbled and he called after Han, "Some flatbread would go down nicely, too, while you're there."

"Kriff, man; whatcha _last_ slave die from?"

"I sat on him and pounded him into the ground," Qui-Gon responded deadpan.

"Yeah; so funny. Thought I'd crack up," Han retorted sarcastically, emerging from the kitchen and handing Qui-Gon some flatbread with cheese. "Your drink won't be long."

"Very well." Qui-Gon assumed a haughty look and waved his hand dismissively at his son. "Now, be gone, slave!"

Han gave a rough approximation of a bow. "Yes, Master," he said dramatically then stuck his tongue out at Qui-Gon before disappearing back into the kitchen.

"Ghastly youngling," Qui-Gon called over Han's rusty chuckle. "Why do we keep you around?"

"Because you like me?"

"Right. And why _is_ that?"

"Because I'm smart and funny."

Qui-Gon sighed – the lad was in rare form tonight. "Why am I even talking to you about this?" he asked.

"Beats the kriff outta me!"

The doorbell sounded at that point, saving Qui-Gon from searching for a witty rejoinder. Smart-mouthed young brat … no wonder he and Kila got along so well!

He opened the door and greeted Obi-Wan with an affectionate fatherly hug. "Come on in, Obi-Wan," he said.

"Thank you." Obi-Wan followed Qui-Gon in and shed his cloak, running his fingers through his thick sand-colored hair. "I had to get out of my house. Either one of those women is perfectly fine company on their own, but put them together …?"

Qui-Gon chuckled heartlessly. "Kila has quite the rapier tongue," he said.

"She's getting worse too." Obi-Wan smiled then pointed at Qui-Gon. "I blame you for that."

"As you wish," Qui-Gon said mildly, enjoying the frustration on his former Padawan's face. Obi-Wan – despite his status as a Jedi Master and his near forty years of life – remained wonderfully easy to tease.

"Oh, thank the Force!" Obi-Wan sighed dramatically. "Han; save me from your evil guardian!"

Han gave one of his rusty chuckles, accompanied by a smirk. "Kriff, man, forget _that_," he said. "If he's pickin' on you, he ain't pickin' on me."

"You think I can only torment one person at a time?" Qui-Gon made a tsking sound, loving how much the lad had bloomed in such a short time. He was smart, funny, affectionate – surprisingly well-adjusted and accepting of the life he'd endured. He was no victim, but a survivor. "You really _don't_ know me if you think that."

Obi-Wan smiled at that. "It's true, Han," he said. "My former Master is a man of many talents."

"I think I'll go read in my room in that case," Han said. "Qui-Gon's been stuck with me long enough for one day."

"Please don't ever think that I'm 'stuck with' you," Qui-Gon said, disturbed by that self-deprecating statement. "I hope you realize how much Kila and I …"

Then he saw the wicked grin on his son's face and sighed. "Oh, be gone with you, you evil creature!"

Han smirked, gave a lazy salute and then grabbed his book and disappeared into his bedroom, banging into the doorframe on his way. "Ow …," he groaned mournfully.

Qui-Gon sighed once more then laughed. "Between him and Kila, it's a wonder I'm not completely white," he said.

Obi-Wan laughed also. "But you're happy aren't you, Master?" he said shrewdly.

"I don't think I've ever been so happy," Qui-Gon replied thoughtfully. "I got a small taste of family with Shmi and Ani – I hadn't realized how badly I yearned for it." He gave a sigh for his lost loves before dragging his thoughts back to the present.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

"I'm glad for you, Master," Obi-Wan said. His head turned to look at the holo Padmé had taken of Qui-Gon with Shmi and Anakin Skywalker. He hadn't seen it at the time but, looking at the image afresh, he realized that Qui-Gon Jinn was simply _made_ for family. He indicated the holo. "I don't want to probe, but is Kila comfortable with having that holo up there?"

A proud loving smile appeared on his former Master's face. "She's the one who put it up there," he said. "She encourages me to talk about them – she even regrets never having met them." He gave a very sappy sounding sigh. "She's wonderful and I'm so grateful for whatever made you bring her into my life." He handed Obi-Wan a large cup of caf. "I'll always be grateful to you for that."

Obi-Wan was grateful for his beard, which helped to mask his flushed cheeks. He'd never been good at accepting gratitude or compliments gracefully – much to his wife's amusement. "Oh … well … you're welcome," he offered awkwardly. "I just thought it was time you met. Besides Padmé, you and Kila are my closest friends, and I thought you'd fit well together."

"You're a romantic, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said teasingly before smiling slightly. "Who would have thought twenty-five years ago that we'd be sitting here like this?"

Obi-Wan smiled also, reflecting on the less than auspicious beginning of their time together. Qui-Gon had still been reeling from Xanatos' turn to the Dark Side and had blamed it on his lenient methods. Therefore, he'd been overly strict with an insecure 13-year-old Obi-Wan, causing much tension between the pair. That tension had culminated in Obi-Wan actually leaving the Order for some time to join the friends he'd made on Melida/Daan.

When he'd returned, he'd become sadder but wiser and more mature – was able to accept Qui-Gon's methods more readily. Their rather cool relationship had taken several years to warm up but, by the time that Qui-Gon had nearly died on Naboo, he'd taken up permanent residence in Obi-Wan's heart.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Padmé stretched out on the settee and rested her hand on her still flat stomach, wishing she could commune with the two tiny lives in the same way her husband could. Not for the first time, she envied Obi-Wan his Force strength. She sipped her _kasafruit_ juice and eyed her friend, who was curled up on the other settee, wineglass in her hand and an unfocused dreamy expression on her face.

"Kila," she said suddenly and the other woman started slightly. "Sorry. Anyway … you seem less nervous about your wedding night."

Kila blushed fiercely. "He's so sweet and loving. And talented." This with a grin and a wink. "I enjoy what we do very much." Another blush. "I know the … it might hurt, but I trust Qui-Gon to be as gentle as possible." Concern crossed her features. "I'm sorry if I worried you last time we talked about this. I'm pretty old to feel like this, but that's just the way life turned out for me."

"I'm always amazed at how unbitter you are," Padmé said. "So many people in your situation would have turned to drugs or sex … or something."

"I'm not some perfect being," Kila argued, going pink. "I _do_ feel bitter sometimes, but most of the time it's fine. I have a good life now and am pretty lucky."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," Padmé opined. "_You_ got yourself a job, worked hard, made friends and reached out to Qui-Gon. You deserve the happiness you feel – you've earned it."

This earned her a quizzical stare from Kila. "Are you sure you and Qui-Gon don't share a brain?" she asked. "He said practically the same thing to me last night after …"

She went an intriguing shade of scarlet, piquing Padmé's curiosity. But she knew better than to probe _that_ much into someone's personal life – it would be far too crass. "Well, we're both right," she said instead. "And I'm glad you and Qui-Gon are getting married. He hid it pretty well, but he seemed so … lost after Anakin died."

"I know," Kila replied soberly. "The man has so much love to give; he's a great father to Han." She rested a hand on her abdomen. "And I hope I can give him _more _children." She gave a sudden snort of laughter. "Ironic, isn't it? I finally lose some weight and it's possible I won't even be able to see my feet within a year!"

"It's worth it," Padmé said with certainty, resting her hand on her own abdomen. "And you'll be able to communicate with your child before it's born. I envy you that."

"There are other ways," Kila replied. "You can play music, read out loud. It's never been proven to work, but it's never been disproven either."

"In other words, I should stop feeling sorry for myself," Padmé said wryly.

Kila chuckled and lifted up her wineglass. "I'd never say such a thing," she denied. "But that's about the size of it."

Padmé chuckled also at the innocent look her friend currently sported. Qui-Gon was in for quite an experience after he became Kila's husband on the morn!


	29. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER 2****9**

In a far darker part of the galaxy, Lord Tyranus sat down and crossed his legs smoothly then closed his eyes before falling easily into a deep meditation. He began his search for his daughter's Force signature for the fourth time that day.

His source on Coruscant had informed him that Kila was due to wed Qui-Gon this morning. Once that happened, there would be even less likelihood of Tyranus reaching her. Jinn was incredibly strong in the Force – as were her Master Yoda and the accursed Kenobi. And Kila was growing stronger also. While she would never be very powerful, she seemed to have found a way of taking her darkness and using it in her methods. She wasn't Dark but neither was she quite Light.

With patience and persistence, Tyranus could envision he and his daughter together, working to rid the Republic of its corrupt self-serving Senators and replacing that inefficient system with that of an Empire and planetary governors.

Tyranus had no ambition to be Emperor. It was far too visible and vulnerable a position – he much preferred to work behind the scenes, twisting and manipulating. And there were many ambitious fools out there that would jump at the chance of prestige without realizing who really held the power.

Tyranus had learned from his Master's error. Sidious had moved too far too fast, had made himself too prominent. If Sidious had asked Tyranus' opinion – which he never would have – Tyranus would have advised him to remain a Senator and keep Valorum in power until the natural end of Valorum's term. There was a time and a place for everything, and the Republic's time was running out. It may not happen during Lord Tyranus' lifetime, but something so top-heavy _had_ to topple – it was the natural law.

Tyranus cleared his thoughts and resumed his search for his daughter, brushing against her Force signature. She was evidently alone – he usually could not find her so quickly when she had one of her Jedi protectors with her. _Kila_, he sent, _have you accepted yet that I'm your father?_

_Oh, gods, not you again!_, Kila complained. _How is it one of your little dark minions hasn't done away with you yet?_

Dooku – he felt more like Tyln Dooku and less like Lord Tyranus when he was communicating with his daughter – smiled at her wit. _I'll take that as a no_, he responded.

_I've accepted that you got my mother pregnant and then abandoned her to slavery and deathsticks_, Kila argued. _It takes more than sharing genes to make family._

_Very true_, Dooku acknowledged, thinking of how she'd taken in that Corellian brat. _That is why I've tried so hard to reach you. We belong together – father and daughter working together, learning from one another …_

_Oh, spare me_, Kila retorted. _If I hadn't inherited some of your Force abilities, you wouldn't have given me a second thought._

That was actually inaccurate, Dooku reflected now, remembering those frantic weeks and months of searching the known worlds after he'd learned of Kila's birth. His leaving the Jedi Order had cut off some of his resources, and it had been several years before he'd learned that she now lived on Coruscant. But he knew Kila would never believe that, her bitterness toward him blinding her.

Dooku could use that bitterness and anger. _Believe what you will_, he replied calmly. _But onto happier topics, my dear. I understand you are to marry my old friend Qui-Gon this morning – I can only hope he's worthy of the bright, passionate, lovely young woman you've become._

_He's the best person I've ever known!_, Kila retorted hotly, her shields slipping further to reveal the dark maelstrom of hate swirling inside of her. _He's sweet, gentle, strong and so caring … he's worth a thousand thousand of a creature like you!_

And, with that, her shields slammed down, cutting Tyranus off very effectively, yet a trace of her anger and hate lingered within the Force. Tyranus emerged from his meditation and smiled in dark satisfaction. Kila did not realize it but, by giving in to her anger and hate, she had taken her first steps into the Dark. Now it was up to Lord Tyranus to guide her in the ways of the Sith.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

"I'll get that!" Qui-Gon heard Padmé call just after he'd knocked on the door. The door opened and the tiny woman planted a hand firmly on his chest to prevent him entering the apartment. "Oh no you don't," she said sternly, her lovely face wreathed in determination.

And Qui-Gon flashed back more than thirteen years to a petite handmaiden that had insisted upon accompanying him and Jar Jar Binks to Mos Espa. She'd grown a little in the intervening years but it was still rather reminiscent of an Ewok cub facing down a Wookiee. He chuckled then dug in his pocket and produced a small gift box. "Very well, Senator," he teased. "Would you give this to Kila for me?"

"Of course," Padmé said. "May I?" she added, indicating the box.

"By all means," Qui-Gon replied.

Practically vibrating with curiosity, the young woman opened the box to reveal a delicate filigree hairclip set with rich purple stones. "I don't know if she's putting her hair up, but I was told this would look nice either way," Qui-Gon said when Padmé stared at the pretty little trinket.

"You're a man of exquisite taste, Qui-Gon Jinn," the Senator declared. Then she smiled. "You'll understand in an hour." She put a hand on his shoulder then stretched up and kissed his cheek. "Now, shoo!"

"Yes, milady," Qui-Gon teased.

"Oh, and do something about those whiskers – they're scratchy," Padmé complained.

"Should you be bossing people around so much now that you're no longer Queen?" Qui-Gon asked mildly then turned and strode away with a smirk. The smirk became a full-blown chuckle when the box missed his head by mere inches. Marriage and impending motherhood had taken away none of her fire. "Temper, temper," he chided, scooping up the box and tossing it back to Padmé without breaking his stride.

He could have sworn he heard, in a Naboo accent, the words "Horrible old man" being uttered.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila brought herself out of her meditation with a shudder of loathing then made a valiant effort to push down on her hatred and anger toward the creature had sired her. Anger, hate and that Sith had no place in her heart on the happiest day of her life.

She looked up as the door opened to admit a giggling Padmé. "I never used to understand why you refer to Qui-Gon as a horrible old man," she said, playing with a small box. "But now I do."

"That wise, calm façade of his hides an awful lot of mischief," Kila replied, reflecting on the many stories she'd heard of a young Qui-Gon Jinn from his former Master, Yoda. Her favorite story was of the time he'd dared a group of his fellow initiates to run naked through the Council chambers while he was far away at the other side of the Temple. His age-mates had taken their revenge several years later by taking his clothes while he was in the fresher and forcing a gangly self-conscious 13 year old Padawan to dash for his quarters with only a towel to preserve his modesty. "He's such an over-grown child at times – I bet he tried to get a peek at me, didn't he?"

"He says he came to give you this." Padmé tossed the box to Kila. "But he could have done _that_ by courier."

Kila chuckled then opened the box to reveal the most beautiful hairclip she'd ever seen. "Oh, kriff …," she murmured in stunned shock.

"He's a man of wonderful taste," Alee-Ra opined from her position behind Kila where she was making some last-minute adjustments to the dress – Kila had dropped several pounds at the waist since the previous fitting. The Togruta winked flirtatiously into the mirror. "But I knew _that_ the minute I met you."

Kila chuckled. "Do the words 'no chance in a Sith hell' have _any_ meaning for you?" she inquired mildly.

"None at all," Alee-Ra retorted breezily. "A girl has to have her dreams, after all."

"And one of your dreams is that I'll lose my mind and leave my big beautiful Jedi at the altar to run away with you."

"I never said it was a _realistic_ dream," Alee-Ra shot back with a grin. "Well, that's your dress refitted. Thank the gods your wedding is in less than an hour – you _can't_ lose any weight in that amount of time." She brushed at a non-existent bit of fluff. "Now, stand up straight, young lady. And _don't_ …" – she slapped Kila's arms away from her breasts – "fold your arms over your chest. That will just draw _more_ attention to those magnificent mounds. Shoulders down and back – remind Master Jinn exactly _why_ you're so desirable."

"She doesn't want to _kill_ him," Padmé pointed out as Kila took a deep breath then puffed out her chest dramatically.

"Oh, my …" Alee-Ra fastened her eyes on Kila's breasts then placed a hand over her heart and feigned a swoon. "He's a Jedi Master – he's big and strong. I'm sure he can handle a little cleavage."

Kila released the breath and relaxed before examining her reflection. "A little is one thing," she said, "but this is too much." She tugged the close-fitting material upward so that her scar wouldn't peek out.

"Stop that!" Alee-Ra slapped at her hands once more. "Why you're so self-conscious of these beautiful breasts I'll never know."

She tugged the fabric downward and Kila squeezed her eyes shut when gasps issued simultaneously from Padmé and Alee-Ra. "Now you know," she muttered, tugging the material upward once more to cover the still livid scar.

"What happened?" Padmé asked in a hushed shocked tone.

Kila shrugged, fiddling to adjust the neckline to something with which she felt more comfortable. "You know me, Padmé – did you ever imagine that I was a docile slave? Even for one minute?"

Padmé sighed. "No; not really," she said. "Is that why you never …?"

"Partly," Kila replied, "but it wasn't as if men were cuing up to bed me." She shrugged again. "I've come to terms with it; mostly … Can we not make a big deal about it?"

"If that's what you want," Padmé said. "I'd certainly like to get my hands on the monster that did that to you, though."

"Let it go," Kila said calmly. "This is my wedding day and I want it to be a good day – for all of us." She aimed a mischievous glance at Alee-Ra. "And that means you too," she added. "No weeping and wailing. And no trying to kill Qui-Gon."

"Can I hurt him? Just a little?" The Togruta pouted at Kila then laughed. "I'll be good, my pretty, I promise." She took the hairclip from Kila and arranged it so that the large center stone sat in front of the braided coronet while the smaller teardrop stone dangled down her forehead. "That was exactly what was needed!" she exclaimed, obviously extremely pleased with herself. "Now, we still have a little time, so I'll put the finishing touches to your sweet face then we'll open a bottle of that moonwine the Senator gave you."

Kila chuckled and both Padmé and Alee-Ra looked at her curiously. "Just recalling the first time I drank Arrythrian moonwine," she said. "It gave me enough courage to go to Qui-Gon and tell him how I felt about him."

"Ah, alcohol-induced insanity," Alee-Ra nodded. "If I give you enough moonwine, would that bring on another burst of insanity and make you run away with me?" she added hopefully.

Kila giggled then cut herself off when Alee-Ra didn't join in. "You _were_ kidding, right?" she inquired.

"Of course," Alee-Ra said, patting Kila's hand and grinning cheerfully. She reached over and uncorked a bottle with a flourish. "Now, let's drink to Kila!"

Kila took her glass and handed Padmé her smaller one, wishing she could believe that Alee-Ra _had_ been kidding. Something told her that there was a small kernel of truth in the Togruta's jesting, but Kila knew better than to point it out. The Togruta, although silly and flirtatious, was very proud and would not appreciate anyone feeling sorry for her. "To me," she said and sipped carefully at the lightly-bubbling liquid. She certainly didn't want to be stumbling down the aisle in an hour's time!

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**An hour later:**

Kila startled as someone thundered on the door. Grinning at Alee-Ra and Padmé, she opened the door a crack and peeked out. Thankfully, it was Dex and he was alone.

"Sweetness …" The massive Besalisk looked her up and down then let out a shrill whistle. "You clean up real pretty."

"Doesn't she just?" Alee-Ra offered, sounding very pleased with her handiwork.

And with good reason. Kila could barely recognize herself in the mirror. The dress accentuated the curves of her breasts and hips, yet somehow managed to downplay her tummy, which would never be flat enough to suit her. Her curly hair was tucked into a complicated arrangement of loops and coils, her lips were touched with rouge and her cheeks had an entirely natural flush brought on by her excitement.

Qui-Gon and she would be married in less than a half an hour. And Kila couldn't have been more thrilled at the prospect. "Thank you, Dex," she said now, hugging one of his massive arms as the other three wrapped around her.

"You're beautiful, Sweetness – how is it I never noticed that before?"

"I think you're a bit biased, Dex," Kila said, the pink flush being replaced by a hot blush.

"Why 'Sweetness'?" Padmé asked the big alien curiously.

"Why not?" Dex retorted. "It fits, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes," Alee-Ra replied heartily, causing Kila's cheeks to burn anew.

"Shut up," she grumbled. "Well, now that Dex is here, it's time to go – I've been waiting for this day for nine _very_ long weeks."

"A bit eager for the weddin' night, huh, Sweetness?" Dex offered with a wink.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Dexter," Alee-Ra scolded. "Kila here isn't like you and me – she actually thinks with her brain, not her hormones."

"At least when I pursue someone I'm usually successful," Dex said, giving the Togruta a push.

"The guttersnipes you go for aren't exactly renowned for being picky," Alee-Ra shot back. "I have a very discerning taste."

"Ah-huh." Dex shook his head and grinned. "We all know you talk rubbish, Alee – who you tryin' to kid?"

Alee-Ra chuckled. "We've known each other _way_ too long, Dex," she said, giving the Besalisk a friendly punch in the chest.

"Come on, people," Kila objected wearily. "I've got one child at home already – I don't need two more here." Much as she liked Dex and Alee-Ra, she was anxious to become Qui-Gon's wife.

"Sorry, Sweetness," the chastised pair responded in unison, causing Kila to roll her eyes.

"Infants. I'm surrounded by infants," she complained. She waved a hand at Padmé who was standing quietly watching the scene with barely concealed amusement. "Why is the youngest amongst us also the most mature?"

"Please, my dear; I _am_ a Senator, you know," Padmé said, effecting a cultured Coruscanti accent.

To Kila, Padmé sounded like Obi-Wan with a high pitched voice – and that ludicrous thought caused her to guffaw suddenly, breaking the tension rather nicely. "What?" she asked with her best innocent look. The one that Qui-Gon had stopped trusting mere days after they'd met. Perceptive man.

"Hmm … it doesn't matter," Padmé said, giving her a suspicious stare. She went over to the open doorway and indicated it with a flourish. "Well, let's go and get you married."

Kila gave a little skip of sheer glee, and then tucked her hand into the crook of one of Dex's upper arms. He patted her hand in a fatherly fashion then put his lower arm around her waist. "Just in case you think of runnin' away," he said with a twinkle.

"Would never happen," Kila said with certainty. She had never been so happy in her life … or so sure that she was doing the right thing.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon stood relaxed and listened to the subdued chatter of the wedding guests. He rubbed a hand over his smooth chin and smiled slightly, envisioning Kila's response to his shaving. He knew she liked the beard and mustache, but her passionate appreciation of the previous time he'd shaved for her still resonated through him.

"That's an awfully smug look you're wearing, Master," Obi-Wan murmured. "Care to share?"

Obi-Wan smiled down at the man who'd become … not quite a son but like a younger brother, then shook his head. "Too personal," he said. "It's strange … the last nine weeks have flown by, but now time seems to have halted."

"Well, time will go quickly enough when Kila becomes your wife," Obi-Wan teased. "Life will never be dull with her around."

"No," Qui-Gon agreed. "She can be utterly infuriating one minute then be utterly adorable the next." He gave a sigh. "I still can't understand how she remained unattached for so long – surely someone else would have seen her beauty long ago."

"She's sweet and certainly attractive," Obi-Wan replied thoughtfully, "but she always put out very strong 'leave me alone' vibrations. You and she just … you're _right_ together. You seem years younger and she's far more outgoing and …" He hesitated. "And sexual," he finished with obvious reluctance. "She simply glows with her love for you and that's always attractive."

"True," Qui-Gon said. "I didn't think her beautiful when we first met, although I did love her eyes and her hair. But now … I think she's the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

"Speaking of whom … I can hear the doors opening," Obi-Wan said, turning Qui-Gon to face the now open doors.

Padmé and Alee-Ra entered first then … Qui-Gon sucked in a sharp breath, wondering if his chest was about to implode. There, walking toward him on the arm of Dexter Jettster, was his bride, wearing a bright smile and glowing cheeks. Clothed in a floor-length dress of rich purple that matched the stones in her hairclip perfectly, the thick fabric caressed her curves and brought her clear pale skin to glowing life. Qui-Gon knew nothing about women's clothing, but he did know that she was stunning.

She reached his side and Dex passed her over to him, giving her a hug and a kiss. "Take care of her," he instructed Qui-Gon gruffly. "She's very precious." Then he went red and cleared his throat. "Anyway …," he said, "get yourself married, Sweetness."

And he heaved his bulk into a nearby chair, which creaked alarmingly under his weight but managed to stay intact.

Qui-Gon regarded the Besalisk thoughtfully for a moment before turning to his bride, who beamed up at him, no trace of nerves showing on her face. "Hello," he said. He took her hand and pressed it to his rapidly beating heart. "What you do to me …"

Kila giggled and slipped her free arm around his waist. She looked over at Padmé. "Mission accomplished," she commented, stroking his smooth chin. "Mmm …"

Padmé giggled also then sobered when Yoda floated up to the daïs on his hover chair. He'd blushed like a youngling when Qui-Gon and Kila had asked him to perform their wedding ceremony.

The wizened little being came to a halt between Kila and Qui-Gon and took one each of their hands in his own tiny green ones. He cleared his throat and the subdued chatter ceased completely. For such a tiny being, Yoda had a way of commanding attention like no-one else Qui-Gon had ever met. "Gentlebeings," he began, "today the formal union of Qui-Gon Jinn and Kila Marik we witness. Friends they began as and friends still." He patted Kila's cheek in a fatherly fashion. "Much they have been through – tested their bond has been. Good, fine people they are. But much more they are together than apart. Believed Qui-Gon did that too old for love he was. A mere pup you are," he scolded, causing the guests and Qui-Gon and Kila to chuckle. Qui-Gon _wasn't_ a young man anymore but when you compared his 73 years to Yoda's near-nine hundred …

Yoda coughed to gain everyone's attention then, once he'd gained that, continued. "Believed Kila did that unworthy of love she was." He patted her cheek once more. "Find each other did two lonely people – shared their hearts with each other and better for it they became. Friends, lovers, parents to Han" – he indicated the tall Corellian who grinned back a little uncertainly. "So much they give to each other, to strangers. Romantic I am not, but suit each other very well they do – the sharp-tongued brat and the horrible old man …"

Kila laughed out loud at that and frowned playfully at Yoda. "I love you too, Master," she murmured under the guests' renewed laughter.

Yoda tapped the floor with his gimer stick. "Qui-Gon; have the rings you do?"

Kila gave a frown and mouthed the words "Rings, plural?"

Qui-Gon dipped his head and produced two silver rings in the same design – one a good deal larger than the other – then passed them to his former Master.

"Good, good." Yoda's large eyes flicked around the room. "Marriage a solemn covenant is and rushed into or taken lightly it should not be." Then he gave a very human sigh as Kila's hand found its way to Qui-Gon's jaw once more. "Proceed may I or to flirt more you wish?" he inquired.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila paused in her tactile appreciation of Qui-Gon's smooth chin and face and blushed slightly. "Can we not do _both_?" she asked with an impish grin. She couldn't believe Qui-Gon had shaved for her, though she had no illusions that he would _remain_ clean-shaven. She kissed the smooth chin then tucked her hand back into Qui-Gon's and stood demurely beside him.

Yoda looked at her suspiciously for several seconds before turning to Qui-Gon. "Qui-Gon Jinn; take Kila Marik as your wife you do? Share your home, your heart, your soul, your joys and troubles you will? Vow this you do?"

"This I vow," Qui-Gon said in a strong confident voice.

Yoda then turned to Kila. "Kila Marik; take Qui-Gon Jinn as your husband you do? Share your home, your heart, your soul, your joys and troubles you will? Vow this you do?"

"This I vow," Kila affirmed, clutching tightly to Qui-Gon's hand and blinking back the tears of joy.

"Asked Qui-Gon has that exchange rings you will – as on Tatooine," Yoda continued. He handed the large ring to Kila and the smaller one to Qui-Gon.

Kila took the ring with a shaking hand and slid it onto Qui-Gon's right middle finger. He did the same then Yoda's clawed hands came down to rest on theirs. "The exchanging of the rings – the taking of the vows … Pronounce you married I do. Kiss the …"

Kila slung her arms around her husband's neck and sought out his mouth, giggling happily into it as he lifted her off her feet.

"… the husband you may," Yoda finished lamely as Kila reveled in Qui-Gon's hot passionate claiming of her mouth.

"I love you," Qui-Gon murmured.

"Force; I love you too," Kila got out before seizing his mouth with a renewed ferocity. _My husband_, she mused dazedly as her tongue tangled with his. _This big beautiful Jedi is my husband._


	30. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER ****30**

**Several hours later:**

Qui-Gon kept an arm around his wife's shoulders as she chatted lightly with Padmé and Obi-Wan. His wife. This bright beautiful woman was his wife. He heaved a happy sigh then scanned the room, looking for Han.

There he was; talking to an initiate about his own age. And she didn't seem to mind the attention at all if her shy giggles and unconscious preening were any indication. Qui-Gon smiled and nudged Kila. "Love is in the air," he said, indicating the two younglings.

"Where?" Kila followed Qui-Gon's stare and smiled at the oblivious younglings. "Oh, that's so cute," she said then chuckled when Han gave his trademark smirk which earned him a playful punch from the little blonde next to him. "Oh, he's going to be such a scoundrel, isn't he?" she asked, half in despair, half in amusement.

"Scoundrel?" Qui-Gon smiled at the old-fashioned expression and dropped a kiss onto Kila's sweet lips. "I don't think we have to worry about him being wicked – but he'll probably be quite roguish." He nuzzled into her neck, enjoying her soft skin and the way her breath hitched when he hit _that_ spot.

"Well, he's your son," Kila said, slipping her arms around his waist and tilting her head to give him better access to her throat. "He'll come by it honestly at least."

"Wicked woman." Qui-Gon lifted her off of her feet and nipped her throat gently, wrenching a squeal from her. "I _know_, remember, that you're not as angelic as you look."

A flush appeared on Kila's cheeks. "Angelic? Qui-Gon; I thought you didn't drink," she teased.

Qui-Gon set Kila back on her feet and perused her closely. "You're incredible," he told her seriously, smoothing his hands over her round hips. "You literally took my breath away."

"Oh." Kila shrugged, evidently not seeing what he saw, and then slipped her arms around his waist in a tight hug. "Very remiss of me to not return the compliment," she said and planted a kiss on his jaw. "I've never seen you look so handsome – and that's saying something."

Now it was Qui-Gon's turn to blush. "Well … thank you," he said, swaying her gently to the soft music currently playing.

"Oh, my pleasure." The evil wench squeezed his rear end and beamed up at him. "_Believe_ me," she added with a saucy wink.

Qui-Gon had lately become less shy about public displays of affection – Kila's openness bringing out a cheekiness that he thought he'd left behind upon his knighting. So he didn't hesitate to fill his hands with her round behind and return the squeeze. Kila chuckled then moved her arms back to a rather more decorous position around his waist.

She nuzzled back into his neck and planted small nipping kisses along his smooth jawline. "I can't believe you shaved for me," she said, stretching up to nibble just under his ear.

Qui-Gon's breath caught at the tender nip then he smiled down at her. "Padmé and Han deserve the credit," he said, stroking his hand down the thick fabric at her waist. "Padmé complained that my whiskers were scratchy, so I gave them another trim. Then … Han bumped into me when I was clipping my beard and I took too much off."

He distinctly heard his bride muffle a snort of laughter before she looked up at him, her eyes dancing with barely suppressed laughter. "Oh … bless that lad and his clumsy big feet!" she said.

Qui-Gon tried and failed to effect a pout – evidently it only worked for pretty girls like Kila. "Thanks so much for your sympathy, my love."

She snorted again. "Any time," she replied, resting her head against his chest as they danced to the romantic music.

He spun her in another gentle arc then, unable to resist, dipped her dramatically. She squeaked and plastered herself to him, hands clutching at him as she fought falling. He brought her back upright and chuckled at her reddened cheeks. "You horrible old man," she said with a grin. "It's a good thing you're so strong!"

"Because you weigh _so_ much," Qui-Gon rejoined lightly, rolling his eyes. She'd never been badly overweight, even before her Jedi training, yet she saw some grossly obese creature when she looked at herself. She didn't seem to realize just how delicious her curves were … how he loved to run his hands and his lips over them. He coughed lightly and reined in his erotic thoughts before his body ran amok.

Kila rolled her own eyes but didn't bother arguing. Instead she stretched upward, pressed up against him and linked her arms around his neck. "Shut up," she advised before taking his lips in a hot, passionate kiss.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila rolled her eyes at her husband then grabbed him around the neck and silenced him by the most expedient means available – kissing him witless. She'd never quite succeeded – the man was just too kriffing sharp – but she enjoyed her labors nonetheless.

She smirked against his lips when his hands grasped her rear end to pull her even tighter against his long frame – and didn't even have the decency to blush when Dex shouted; "Save it for the honeymoon, will ya?"

"Remind me again why we invited him," Kila grumbled, letting go of the sweet mouth near hers just long enough to pose the question.

Qui-Gon nipped at her bottom lip, answered, "Because you love him" and then seized her mouth once more.

"Mmm … you think … it's too … early to go … to the spaceport?" Kila got out between Qui-Gon's ravaging of her mouth. Just when had he taken control of the situation?

"Do you care?" Qui-Gon retorted huskily.

Kila thought for a second then aimed an impish grin at the man who'd become everything to her. "No, not really," she said then squealed when he flung her over his shoulder. What was the infuriating man up to now?

"May I have your attention?" Qui-Gon called, not even flinching when Kila swatted his rear end. "Kila and I want to thank you for your presence and your many well-wishes. However, Dex has subtly reminded us that we do have a honeymoon to go to."

"Put me _down_, you dreadful beast!" Kila dug her pointy elbows into his back and he yelped.

Qui-Gon set her back on her feet and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Better?" he asked as innocent as the day he was born.

"You'll get it, you horrible old man," Kila threatened, trying not to giggle. Then she gave in to her amusement and hugged him with a peal of laughter. She sobered and looked at the diverse group of people. "Seriously, gentlebeings, Qui-Gon and I are extremely touched by your well-wishes. It … ah … it means more to me than most of you can probably understand." Obi-Wan gave her a gentle smile – he was one of the few that knew just _how_ alone she had once been. Kila blushed but continued gamely on. "You're very special people … even a certain unnamed Corellian who's too busy flirting with Jedi to listen to me!" she added loudly.

Aforementioned Corellian blushed to the roots of his scruffy brown head – his unruly hair denied all attempts to tame it. "Ahh … uh … oh, kriff, Kila!" he muttered as the young girl next to him went pink and giggled.

"Well, listen up next time, Mr. Thing," Kila retorted heartlessly, fighting the urge to smirk. "Anyway, there's nothing else for me to say, so Qui-Gon and I will be going now." She sent a more concerned glance over to Han, uncertain whether he truly was fine with staying with Mace for the week.

They'd offered to bring him to Varykino with them – the royal estate had plenty of room after all – but Han had shaken his head. "Even I know kids and honeymoons don't mix," he'd said.

Mace had been happy to help out – the Korun Master and Han were becoming close – and Kila knew that Mace would be able to put a stop to some of Han's antics before they went too far. Nevertheless, a small part of her felt guilty for leaving Han so soon after she'd brought him into her home and her heart.

Qui-Gon, perhaps sensing something of what she felt – or maybe feeling it also – hugged her more closely to him. "So … thank you, my good friends," he finished for Kila. "There's food and music – please stay and enjoy yourselves."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Half an hour later, Kila hung up her dress sadly and smoothed her hand over the soft thick fabric. It really was the most incredible dress she'd ever worn and she hated to take it off. "Oh well …," she murmured, "a wedding is just one day – you have years ahead with Qui-Gon."

She hugged her bare arms in girlish glee then pulled on one of her loose comfortable dresses and stuffed her feet into a pair of sandals. Her bags were already in the swoop that would take her and her _husband_ to the spaceport. The only thing left for her to collect was said husband, who waited rather impatiently for her in the living room.

She tied her hair back loosely with the leather cord she'd never returned to Qui-Gon then made her way back out to the living area. "Let's go!" she said brightly, tucking her hand into his and leading him out of their house toward the swoop. "Shall I pilot or you?"

"I don't mind," Qui-Gon replied quietly, although a certain huskiness in his voice indicated that he was looking forward to their honeymoon just as much as she was – if not more.

Kila squeezed his large hand. "I'll pilot in that case," she said. "I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed doing it. Gardulla might have been a hard taskmaster, but I got to do a lot of flying as her personal attendant."

'Personal attendant'. It sounded _so_ much better than 'slave'. And Kila had generally been treated better than the common slaves Gardulla had kept, but her relative comfort hadn't blinded her to the fact that her life had remained in the unpredictable Hutt's hands.

"That suits me," Qui-Gon said. "I get to spend that time looking at your pretty face," he added.

"Soppy old fool," Kila teased, letting go of his hand and watching as he boarded the swoop. _Mmm. Nice view._ She climbed in also and made her way to the pilot's seat, extending her hand to run the fingers over his smooth cheek once more.

It was only a short journey to the spaceport and the time was passed in a comfortable loving silence. At the spaceport, Qui-Gon took her bags out of her hands. "Allow me, my lady," he said sweetly, his broad shoulders and strong back making nothing of the now heavy load.

Kila bobbed a curtsy. "Why, thank you, good sir," she responded in kind then, unable to resist, slipped her arm back around his waist as they made their way through the bustling spaceport.

"Two seats in the name of Qui-Gon Jinn and Kila Marik," Qui-Gon said to the bored looking Bothan on duty at the check-in desk, handing over his and Kila's identi-chips for the Bothan to scan.

"Kila Jinn," Kila said, surprised that the subject of names hadn't come up over the last couple of months. "I'm changing my name to Jinn when we come back," she told Qui-Gon when his eyes widened.

"Well … I'm honored," Qui-Gon said, receiving two boarding cards from the Bothan. He looked down at the cards. "I … there's been some kind of a mistake," he said. "I requested Deck 2 – you've put us on Flight Deck."

Kila's own eyes widened. Flight Deck was for the very rich only and Qui-Gon and she were certainly not rich. Deck 2 had been a push for them.

"No mistake, sir," the Bothan said. "Your tickets were upgraded by …" – he scrolled through something on his screen – "… Jedi Masters Yoda, Mace Windu and Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Yoda." Qui-Gon chuckled. "And he thinks he's not a romantic."

"He never fooled me," Kila said as an attendant took their luggage from them bowing obsequiously – Flight Deck passengers were evidently treated very well. "He was rooting for us right from the start."

"Your flight will board in about forty minutes," the Bothan told them, looking at them with a little more interest. "In the meantime, refreshments are being served to our Flight Deck passengers in the lounge to your left. Enjoy your flight, sir, my lady."

"Thank you," Kila and Qui-Gon said in unison then walked over to the indicated lounge. "Oh, my … I think I'm a bit underdressed," Kila said, looking at the ladies' silken array then down at her loose cotton dress.

Qui-Gon held her at arm's length then, quick as a whip, loosened some of her hair and used his own belt to tighten her dress around her waist. "Something's missing," he proclaimed and then whisked a finger over her lips. "Lip rouge."

"I don't have any," Kila said. "And since when do _you_ know anything about female fashions?"

In reply, Qui-Gon scooped her up against him and took her lips in a hot passionate kiss, his lips burning against hers, his teeth nipping and nibbling and his tongue stroking, tangling and caressing. All Kila could do was thread her fingers through his hair and follow along with the demanding kiss.

After untold minutes he set her back down and ran a finger over her now swollen lips. "Rouge applied," he said with an undeniably smug smile.

"Well …" Kila sucked in a breath – oxygen was a good thing and she'd had far too little of it in the preceding minutes. "I take it back. You _do_ know something about female fashions."

Qui-Gon laughed and tucked her hand into his big one in a decorous fashion. "Shall we?" he asked mildly, indicating the lounge.

"We shall," Kila said, fighting the urge to guffaw. The man was such a rogue and it was just one of the many things she loved about him.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

An hour later, Kila settled herself into the large absurdly squishy chair up on Flight Deck, kicked off her sandals and tucked her feet up under her with a sigh. The excitement of the day had taken its toll and she was dismayed to find that she was feeling very sleepy. She yawned and manufactured a cough to disguise it, but Qui-Gon wasn't fooled – you couldn't get anything past that man.

"It's all right if you want to sleep," he said quietly. "We've got many hours till we reach Naboo – go and rest for a while, my love."

Kila yawned again. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's not exactly the way I pictured our married life beginning." Then she looked up at Qui-Gon and noticed a certain heaviness to _his_ eyes. She held out her hand to him and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "I'll tell you what – I'll take a nap if you'll join me."

"You have a deal," Qui-Gon said.

They headed over to the equally squishy settee and arranged themselves comfortably on it, Kila tucked in close to Qui-Gon, head on his chest. He stroked some hair back from her forehead then heaved a huge sigh. "Sleep, my little warrior woman."

Kila kissed the skin exposed by his open neckline and closed her eyes with a contented smile. A comfortable settee on which to snuggle with her new husband. Could it get any better than that?

Her eyes popped open mere seconds later and she gave an aggravated groan. Wonderful – now she was too tired to sleep.

"Can't sleep?" her husband murmured.

"No," Kila sighed. "I suppose I'm just too keyed up with the excitement of the day." She patted his cheek, which was beginning to get rough, much to her regret, and smiled. "That doesn't mean _you_ shouldn't sleep, though – old men need their naps." She giggled then yelped when he swatted her behind, but was supremely unrepentant.

She closed her eyes in determination and brought her hand down to rest near his heart, toying with a small nipple. She loved his chest – so broad, so firm and so smooth. She kissed one of the white scars that marred the skin then lay her head on his chest.

Her eyes opened once more and she released another aggravated groan. Qui-Gon's hand came up to her head and his long fingers began rubbing at the nape of her neck. She winced when he hit a particularly tight spot then breathed out as those strong appendages continued to rub and press, massaging away the tensions of the day.

The massage felt very good but Kila didn't believe she'd be able to sleep. She was just too …

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Several hours later:**

Kila surfaced to wakefulness and kissed the area of chest so temptingly near her lips. She gave a sigh and snuggled into her husband's warmth, more than a little chilled. This private room on Flight Deck was very elegantly appointed and temperature-controlled but, as Obi-Wan had so delicately pointed out, she _was_ a desert rat. She'd never had a high tolerance for the cold.

Soft lips caressed her forehead. "Feeling better?" Qui-Gon inquired, voice husky from sleep.

"Mmm," Kila replied then shivered again. "I should get moving – it's a bit cool in here for just lying around." She sat up and patted Qui-Gon's cheek affectionately when his eyelids fell once more. While she had had a good quiet night last night, he'd had to contend with Han, who tended to wake up during the night and go a-wandering.

She levered herself onto her feet and then bent to kiss Qui-Gon's lips. "I'm going for a walk," she said. "You stay here and rest, old man."

"Just an hour or so and then I'll come and find you," Qui-Gon said, grabbing her hand and bringing it up to his lips.

"All right," Kila said. She made her way out of the room, pausing to grab a light wrap, and then wandered out along Flight Deck. She paused at the giant picture window and leaned on the sill to watch the stars.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" someone said from behind her.

She started and turned round to behold a tall slim man who exuded a noble upright bearing. Force … what was _he_ doing here? "Go away," she said rudely.

Dooku – or Tyranus – gave a low laugh. "I'm a free citizen, my dear girl – I'm just as entitled as you are to be here." He raised his hand and brushed her cheek. "I'm very happy to finally meet you, even though I know you don't feel the same."

Kila's skin crawled and her fingers itched for the blaster that she'd left behind on Coruscant, then she fought the urge down. This creature _wanted_ her angry, filled with hate – he still seemed intent on winning her over to the Dark Side. "Leave me alone," she got out through gritted teeth.

"Kila; you're a Jedi and I'm a Sith," Tyranus said gravely. "But simply possessing different ideologies shouldn't automatically make us enemies."

Kila paused, considering that inarguably valid point, and then shook her head. "Your thoughts didn't make me hate you," she said. "Your inactions thirty-four years ago and your actions three months ago are what made me hate you." She frowned at the satisfied smile on the Sith Lord's face. "I'm coming to terms with my anger and hate – I will rule them, not the other way round." Feeling stronger than she ever had, she stared defiantly up at the man who'd sired her. "You may as well head back to your fortress and forget about me – I won't turn."

"Perhaps not today," Tyranus agreed softly, "but tomorrow … tomorrow is anyone's guess." He laughed malevolently then he was gone as if he'd never been there.

Which, of course, was the case, Kila realized with a deep shudder. The man was incredibly powerful – it wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that he could Force project his presence to be able to physically interact with someone. And Kila's guard had been down – she'd been sleepy and happy; no wonder he'd been able to reach her so kriffing easily!

She gave another shudder then smiled politely at the waiter who held out a serving platter of filled glasses. "Is that Arrythrian moonwine?" she asked.

"Of course," the waiter said.

Before he could hand her a glass, Kila's paranoia kicked in and she selected her own glass. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," the waiter replied, looking dumbfounded before moving on.

Kila shook her head and sighed. _Get control of yourself woman – stop jumping at shadows. Don't give HIM the satisfaction of wrecking what should be one of the happiest times in your life!_

She stared into the depths of space and began building her defenses as Yoda and Qui-Gon had shown her. That Sith thing was not going to get another chance – she was determined of that.

Qui-Gon hove into view at that point, looking rumpled, sleep-kissed and heavy-eyed. All in all; he was adorable. "Are you all right?" he asked, pulling her into his long firm frame.

"Not right now, but I'm working on it," Kila said. She sighed and put her hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "It seems a certain Sith we know and despise has learned how to Force-project."

Qui-Gon's big body tensed. "What did he want?"

Kila shrugged. "The usual – he tried to convince me that he cared for me, pretended not to know why I hate him …" She lifted her head up and pressed a sweet kiss to the worried man's lips. "I was able to fight him off, though – that means I'm getting stronger, doesn't it?"

"It does indeed," Qui-Gon replied. "Yoda will be pleased with your progress if you keep going like this." He held her away slightly and looked thoughtfully at her. "You seem to be handling your anger better than a few weeks ago."

Kila smiled. "Your example, my love," she said. "If anyone was likely to slip into the darkness, it would be you – you showed me that I control my emotions, not the other way around."

Qui-Gon went pink. "That means a lot," he said, "considering how incredibly angry I can still get at Tyranus."

"Not the Togorian?"

"No," Qui-Gon said. "He was a mindless brute who did what he did because it made him feel stronger – it wasn't personal. If it hadn't been me, it would have been someone else." Then he sighed. "Of course, there are still times when I wish I could have killed the creature, but those moments are decreasing as they are for you."

Kila stretched up and kissed his sweet mouth. "You're … incredible," she said. "I'm unbelievably blessed to have you in my life and my heart."

"I feel just as blessed," Qui-Gon replied, rubbing his cheek to the top of her head in a caress.


	31. Chapter 31

**CHAPTER ****31**

**Many**** hours later:**

Kila slipped her arm around Qui-Gon's waist as they strolled along the beautiful grounds of the royal residence at Varykino. "I still can't believe the Queen of Naboo let us use this place for our honeymoon," she said.

Qui-Gon chuckled. "She seems to think she owes me something for the Jedi's help so many years ago. I tried to explain that she owed me nothing, but …"

Kila shook her head. "You know; if you were that way inclined, I'm sure you'd have half the known worlds dangling from your fingertips."

"Possibly," Qui-Gon said mildly. "I'm not a glory-seeker, though, my love – I'm a peace-keeper, a diplomat and where necessary, a warrior."

Kila tilted her head and perused her big handsome Jedi's calm features. She didn't quite see how he and Obi-Wan had made such a good pairing – they were equally calm, quiet and focused – but then recalled Yoda telling her that Qui-Gon had once been far more passionate and headstrong. It was the loss of the Skywalkers that had taught him so painfully to rein in his impulses – to temper his passion with wisdom.

She was one of a select few nowadays privileged to see his deeply passionate, rebellious side. She even liked that he could get angry with her – it proved he hadn't packed his emotions away entirely.

"No; you're no glory-seeker," she agreed. "And that's just one of the many things I love about you, Qui-Gon." They stopped near the lake and she slipped her hands into her husband's hair, and then brought his head down for a kiss.

The kiss over, they turned to watch as the sun set on the horizon and Kila gasped at the beautiful reds and golds of the setting sun. "Oh …," she murmured, her hand finding its way into Qui-Gon's. "Oh, how lovely."

"The perfect backdrop for you, my love," Qui-Gon replied, brushing his free hand across her cheek.

Kila shook her head slightly – whenever Qui-Gon looked at her, he saw some incredible beauty. Whilst not as plain as she'd once been – the weight loss and happiness suiting her – she didn't see herself as anything more than adequately attractive.

However, she knew better than to argue the point with him. Instead she nuzzled into his neck and placed a kiss on the notch of his collarbone. "Thank you," she replied then, unable to resist, sucked some of his tanned neck into her mouth and nipped gently at the skin.

Qui-Gon growled low in his throat but, she noticed, made no move to stop her. "Be careful, my love – I could wind up ravishing you, and that's not how I want your first time to be remembered."

"I won't break, you know," Kila said calmly, her fluttering insides telling her that she liked the notion of being ravished very much. "I'm not some fragile little girl – I'm a woman who knows what she wants. And I want _you_, Qui-Gon." She nipped his neck once more to reiterate her point. "Never feel you have to play down your passions for me – I love your passion."

Qui-Gon growled again and pulled her tightly against him, his big hands cupping her rear end, squeezing the round flesh as she suckled on his neck.

His long fingers squeezed and manipulated her behind and she abandoned his neck so that he could return the favor, nearly growling herself when his sweet pink tongue found that sensitive spot near her collarbone. "Oh, Force …," she muttered. Was it possible that a human could literally melt?

In a bold move the Kila of six months ago would never have dreamed of, she slipped a hand between their bodies and cupped the physical evidence of his arousal through his pants, reveling in his throaty groan.

"Not … not outside," he got out, letting go of her and stepping backward, adjusting his pants with a hot blush.

She grabbed hold of his waistband and stared up into his bright eyes, now dark with desire. For her. "Then inside," she murmured. "I don't want to wait any longer." Shouldn't she be blushing by now, she wondered.

Qui-Gon smiled at her and cupped her face between his large palms. Then he leaned in and kissed her tenderly, sweetly. "Nor do I, my love," he said. "My wife, my friend, my lover."

Kila removed her hands from his waistband then tucked one hand into his as they made their way back to the near palatial building that Queen Jamillia had referred to as a 'holiday home'.

The walk was silent but comfortable, neither Kila nor Qui-Gon feleing the urge to talk, and Qui-Gon's large hand wrapped around her much smaller one felt so very … _right_.

They reached the bedroom and Kila made her way to one of her bags. She'd never been one to care about clothing, but the beautiful nightgown she'd bought for this moment brought a smile to her face. Qui-Gon wouldn't know what had hit him!

Bag in hand she kissed his sweet lips and said, "I'll just be a few minutes – I have something special for you."

"Just you is more than enough," Qui-Gon said with a smile, "but do as you will, my love."

"Always," Kila said with a smirk and patted his rear before heading to the fresher. She heard him chuckle and mutter the word 'brat', and she giggled in delight as she shed her clothes and stepped under the warm spray of the shower.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

In the meantime, Qui-Gon shed his own clothes efficiently and stepped under another shower. In deference to Kila's love of water showers, he chose the sonics instead and stood under the soothing waves as they cleansed him from head to toe.

From the other fresher he heard Kila singing loudly and happily, and smiled. She was loving, caring, witty, passionate, many wonderful things. But the woman could not sing well. Yet there was something so joyous and uninhibited about her singing that he loved listening to her. The sonic pinged, signaling the end of the cycle, and he stepped out of the fresher.

Eyeing his reflection in the mirror, he rubbed a hand over the emerging roughness on his chin and decided that another shave was in order. He had every intention of exploring Kila's soft warm body in full, and didn't want to leave her with whisker burns in embarrassing places. Never mind that part of him wanted to do just that.

Tonight was about loving, giving and sharing. No matter how ready and willing Kila was, she was giving her virginity to him, and he was determined to treat it as the precious gift it truly was.

Decision made, he rooted in his bag until he found his razor and shave cream. Then he lathered up his face and set to work, removing the day's growth from his face and neck.

He combed out his long hair and began to automatically pull it back then thought better of it. Kila had – more than once – said how much she loved running her fingers through his hair. Leaving his hair loose, he slipped into a loose pair of sleep pants then eyed his reflection soberly.

He was still as gray as ever, his nose still crooked and his lanky frame covered with scars. But even he could see the recently acquired brightness in his eyes, the slight flush brought on by desire and the lighter more youthful mien. He was a man in love and it showed.

He made his way out of the fresher and lit a few candles to set an appropriately romantic mood then turned back the covers of the ridiculously large bed. He found a record chip with some of his favorite Mon Calamari music and put it in the player. Then he sat on a handy chair and waited for his bride.

The door opened and Kila emerged. And once again he felt like his chest was about to implode. The diaphanous nightgown she wore was a far cry from the thick fabric that had caressed her curves earlier that day, yet it was just as stunning. In a lighter shade of purple, the material dipped in front to give him a delicious hint of her full generous breasts then skimmed over her hips and down her legs to a point near her feet. Thin straps held up the nightgown while doing nothing to hide the soft white skin of her shoulders and … She turned and he whistled softly at the view afforded him by the plunging back of the gown. It was deeply cut in the back, exposing what seemed like miles of soft white skin, yet it was beautifully elegant and not at all vulgar.

She'd left her glorious curly hair loose, knowing that Qui-Gon loved her hair as much as she did his, and had applied a fresh delicate scent that wafted around him and pulled him in. She turned back to face him and smiled an interesting combination of smugness and shy anticipation. "You like?"

"I can't believe you'd even need to ask," Qui-Gon said, clearing his throat. "I'm almost afraid to touch you. You're amazing and you consented to be my wife – that's a wonderful gift, my love."

Kila smiled and blushed slightly then took his hand and laced her fingers through his. "May I have this dance, my husband?" she said.

"You may indeed," Qui-Gon replied and slipped his free hand carefully downward to rest on the silky material at her waist. Kila moved _her_ free hand to his face as they danced slowly and stroked his cheek then stretched up and kissed him.

The kiss over, she tucked her head into his chest, cheek resting on his heart, as the gentle romantic strains became something more primal and stirring.

Almost as if following the music's mood change, Kila's nuzzle became sweet nips along his collarbone and over his chest until she reached a small nipple. She took it between her teeth and worried it, causing intense sparks of pleasure to shoot through Qui-Gon. The slight pain was very erotic and part of him thought dimly that he should stop her before he wound up ravishing her beautiful body.

Before he had the chance, however, she slipped her hands inside his pants and squeezed his rear end with a sigh of appreciation. Then, without even a blush, she pulled his pants down to his ankles, motioning for him to step out of them.

He did so and raised his eyebrows when she put her hands on her hips with a mysterious smile. "What?" he asked, not entirely trusting that smile.

"I wish I could draw or paint," she replied, seemingly a propos of nothing. "You're beautiful."

And he blushed. "You're biased," he told her then took her hand and led her to the huge island of a bed. "You're the beautiful one," he added, looking at the pale skin, full figure, bright eyes and curling hair of his wife.

Kila chuckled. "Well, it's nice you think so," she said and gathered up the hem of her nightgown, obviously intent on removing it.

Qui-Gon stilled her hands just as the tops of her thighs were revealed. "There's no hurry, my love," he said. "You're wrapped up like an exquisite present – and I'll relish the slow unwrapping."

Kila smiled and dropped the hem back down then sat on the bed. "Well, at least sit down here and kiss me," she invited.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Kila shivered with delight as Qui-Gon's gentle knowing hands stroked her skin, adding to the inferno building inside of her. They'd been lying on the bed petting and kissing for some time now and she was fairly certain that the incipient explosion would be magnificent.

His lips followed the path his fingers had taken earlier and he traced an aureole with the tip of his tongue before capturing the nipple and worrying it until it was tight and reddened. The other nipple received the same careful attention then he kissed his way down her stomach until he reached the apex of her thighs.

Shaking slightly, Kila opened her thighs to him and was very pleased that she didn't flinch when he began to gently explore her core with his fingertips. Those fingers stroked and soothed and she relaxed more, widening her legs and revealing more of herself to him.

Then his handsome silver head lowered and his mouth took possession of the small throbbing bud near her core. She caught her breath as his tongue flicked at that bud, wondering why she'd been so worried about letting him taste her so intimately. He was sure and knowing, yet sweet and gentle.

A slim finger pushed gently at her entrance and she tensed slightly. "Ssshh," Qui-Gon breathed against her sensitized flesh, causing a thrill to run through her. He lifted his head up. "I won't do anything you don't want."

"I know," Kila said, capturing some of his soft hair and twining her fingers through the silky strands. "And I do trust you," she added.

He smiled up at her, kissed the underside of one of her breasts then resumed his task with his typical dedication. His sweet lips and tongue continued their caressing motions and she could feel her arousal build.

Her insides clenched, her cheeks burned and her heart was pounding. She couldn't think anymore; all she could do was feel … Soft warm lips, gentle fingers, the tickle of his hair on her thighs and belly as he dedicated himself to her pleasure. Her insides tightened further, her breasts and belly ached and something was building inside of her that was almost frightening in its power. Then the dam broke and she gave a long shuddering sigh as her body pulsed in the wake of her climax. "Oh … oh, gods," she murmured weakly as her husband came back up to lie next to her, stroking her hair.

Qui-Gon smiled gently at her and stroked more hair from her blushed brow. "Force; you're so beautiful," he told her, hand wandering downward to capture a full breast, teasing the taut nipple with his thumb.

"Thank you," Kila said deeply then called on her strength to push Qui-Gon onto his back. She swept her hands over his firm chest and abdomen, giggling when those muscles jumped – he really was incredibly ticklish. Then she made her way more cautiously down to the juncture of his thighs and stroked him gently, causing him to flinch.

"It tickles," he said then took her hand and wrapped it firmly around his manhood – far more firmly than she would have dared. Following his gentle instructions she stroked him to full hardness and ruthlessly suppressed the small sliver of fear that tried to intrude.

Qui-Gon's thighs began to quiver and he took her hand away then breathed in deeply. "Are you ready for me, my love?" he asked gently.

"I'm ready," Kila confirmed. _As I'll ever be._

This addition wasn't voiced but Qui-Gon gave her a long considering look nonetheless. "Just remember; no means no," he said. "I'll stop any time you need."

"I know," Kila said, nuzzling into his chest and capturing one of his nipples between her teeth. She worried it briefly before releasing it and settling back against the pillows.

Qui-Gon parted her legs gently and settled in between them, his hardness rubbing against her still-tingling center, causing her to gasp and widen her legs further. He kissed her neck sweetly then slipped his hands under her, tilting her up to receive him better. That hardness pressed against her core and she flinched then forced herself to relax as he began to push slowly into her.

Tightness, fullness, stretching, and then a sharp tearing sensation that hurt more than she'd expected. Despite her best efforts, a small cry escaped her tightly pressed lips and a couple of tears leaked out.

"Ssh … shh …," Qui-Gon soothed, kissing away the salty tears. "I'm sorry, but the worst is over now." He brushed a kiss over her forehead. "Just relax – take all the time you need."

Kila could feel her body becoming accustomed to the intrusion – it felt strange but not horrible. She clenched and unclenched around his heavy length, absorbing the feeling of fullness, and then smiled up at him. "I'm all right," she said softly.

Qui-Gon returned the smile then began to move gently within her, getting her used to the alien feeling. And she began to relax and follow his slow movements, trusting in his greater experience and her own instincts.

And, once more, she felt that tightness in her belly, the tingling and the blood pounding. She rocked against him a little harder and grasped his firm behind to bring him closer. "Oh! Oh, gods …," she got out just before she crested, her whole body shaking and squeezing him tightly as her insides clamped down on his length.

Her husband groaned and began rocking a little faster, his movements losing some of their gentle fluidity. Then he groaned gutturally and she felt a rush of wetness in her core, indicating his own release.

His big body trembled above her and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down so that his head rested on her shoulder. "I won't break," she said with a smile and feeling her own body tremble in the aftermath.

Qui-Gon withdrew gently from her and rolled onto his back, looking sleepy and satisfied. Which gave Kila a very smug feeling. "Are you all right?" he asked, a finger brushing her cheek and whisking away a tear.

"I am," Kila affirmed. She was a little sore and achy, but it was nothing worth mentioning. She turned to him and planted a kiss on his lips. "You were so sweet and gentle – if I'd known it could be so good, I would've had my way with you a long time ago."

Qui-Gon chuckled then leaned on an elbow. He slipped a hand between her thighs. "I need to check," he said. Kila went red but parted her legs obediently. He examined her gently and closed his eyes briefly. "I hurt you," he added.

There was no point in lying but Kila was not going to make more of it than it was. "I'm a bit sore, yes," she said, "but it'll pass quickly enough."

He shook his head and laid his hand low on her abdomen, obviously intent on healing her, but Kila caught his hand. "Don't worry about it," she said. "It's minor and, besides, I don't want you wasting your energy. I have plans for that energy," she added with a saucy wink.

A rumble of laughter came from Qui-Gon. "It's nice to know you can still be a brat," he offered.

"Why, thank you," Kila said then shifted onto her side and cuddled into her husband. Her husband. "You know; I suppose we should think about getting up and having something to eat."

Qui-Gon gnawed playfully at her neck, making her shriek and giggle like someone half her age. "But I have something nice to nibble already," he stated. Then he swept his hands down her body to rest on her behind. "And it's so warm and soft here," he added with a suggestive grin.

"Well, I'm hungry," Kila retorted heartlessly. Ignoring Qui-Gon's moue of disappointment, she got out of the bed, wincing when her muscles protested the movement. She wasn't in too much pain, all things considered, but her body had never been stretched in such a way. She extended her hand to Qui-Gon. "Coming, old man?"

Qui-Gon accepted the proffered hand and heaved himself out of the bed. Kila paused to stare at him with unabashed appreciation. He was her husband – why would she _not_ want to catalog his soft hair, sweet lips, long legs and rangy powerful body?

She twirled her finger, indicating that he should turn around. He rolled his eyes but obeyed, giving her the panoramic view of his broad back and shoulders, slim waist and hips and a tautly muscled rear end. "Mmm-mmm-mmm," Kila voiced her approval of her husband's attributes then tucked her hand back into his as they made their way into the kitchen.

Kila rooted in the room that called itself a cooling until while Qui-Gon made some _kevas_ for himself and caf for her. "You won't sleep," he warned her, wrinkling his nose when she added an extra measure of caf.

Kila laughed. "I wasn't planning on sleeping tonight, believe me." She raked her eyes down her husband's nude body and smirked.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon returned the laugh; although his body certainly wasn't ready for another round, he fully intended to acquaint his lips, fingers and tongue with every bit of his wife before the week was over. "I'm going to hold you to that," he replied and saw her eyes dilate.

"Promises, promises," Kila said with another smirk then took her cup from Qui-Gon.

What a brat. What an incredible … loving … beautiful … utter brat. He dropped a kiss onto that smart mouth then gasped when her teeth clamped gently onto his lower lip, tugging slightly. He took both cups and placed them on the counter then gathered his wife's delightfully nude body into his arms before seizing her lips.

Kila sighed into his mouth, her hands slipping round to stroke his back, his shoulders, his rear end. He hoisted her up higher and started to map her neck with his tongue, reveling in the delicate sheen of perspiration on her skin. She moaned when he hit that spot near her collarbone and her hands tightened on his rear, blessedly short nails digging in.

As plastered together as they were, Qui-Gon couldn't help but feel Kila's renewed arousal. He let go of her neck long enough to ask; "You think food can wait?"

Kila wiggled in his embrace, pressing her damp heat against him. "Oh, gods, yes …," she replied.

Qui-Gon scooped her into his arms and carried her back to the recently-vacated bed then lay her down and looked at her, drinking in her beauty. Kila went pink and moved to throw the sheet over her body but Qui-Gon caught her wrists and stroked them with his thumbs, calming her like a baby Ewok. "Let me," he said gently. She really had no idea how beautiful she was. He loved her, her new friend Alee-Ra had a definite crush and as for Dex … The Besalisk would likely be horrified if he was ever to realize that he saw Kila in any kind of sexual light, but Qui-Gon was a fine observer of people and could see the signs of sexual attraction.

But all this thinking wasn't helping focus on his task – the infinitely pleasurable job of ensuring his new wife's satisfaction.

With that in mind, he sat down next to her and ran gentle fingers over her soft nipples, which puckered immediately at his touch. Then he bent his head and took one of those sweet nipples between his lips, suckling luxuriously.

Her hands found their way into his hair, rubbing at his scalp and he sighed happily. Maybe there _was_ a little bit of feline in him, as Kila had so often teased.

He moved to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment, and then made his way down the small pillow of her stomach. He dipped his tongue into her navel, causing her stomach to clench, and she giggled.

"Hmmm … how did I never know before that you were ticklish?" he asked, feeling the imp of mischief take possession of him.

Kila squealed and tried to wiggle away from him, but he clamped his hands to her hips then began to caress her stomach with his lips and tongue, occasionally blowing directly on her stomach to produce the most undignified raspberries.

Soon enough, tears were rolling down his wife's cheeks and she was shaking with laughter. "S-stop it! S-stop it!" she got out between heaves of laughter.

"I'm not hearing the magic word," Qui-Gon taunted then yelped when she smacked his head.

"_Now_," Kila threatened – although the threat was negated entirely by the squeaks of laughter coming from her.

"Hmmm … not the _right_ magic word," Qui-Gon said and dipped his tongue into her navel.

She squealed once more then gasped out, "_Please!_"

"Better," Qui-Gon chuckled then made his way further downward. Her thighs parted almost immediately for him and he breathed in her sweet musky scent before diving in with lips and tongue.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Several hours later, Kila lay limp atop her husband, utterly spent. She rested her hand on his chest and tweaked his nipples gently. "Oh, gods …," she muttered, her body still quivering from the force of her recent climax.

Qui-Gon's hand trailed idly up and down her back in a soothing motion. "Are you all right?" he added gently.

"All right?" Kila lifted her head up and looked into his sleepy blue eyes. She kissed him sweetly on the lips. "There aren't words in Basic to describe how … incredibly _good_ I feel right now."

He chuckled, causing his chest to rumble under her. "You're very good for an old man's ego, my love," he said.

Kila snorted inelegantly. "Please," she said. "After the last few hours, 'old' is the last thing you should be calling yourself." Then her stomach rumbled, spoiling the moment entirely, and she giggled. "And now I _really_ need to eat."

"Mmm," Qui-Gon agreed. He smiled up at her. "But perhaps you should get dressed – you're entirely too tempting when you're nude."

Kila raised her eyebrows as she levered herself off of her husband's warm firm body. "You mean I'm not tempting when I'm clothed?" she inquired.

"Oh, don't even start that conversation," Qui-Gon warned, getting out of the bed and donning his sleep shirt. Then he threw Kila's to her. "You know perfectly well how desirable I think you are, whether you understand it or not."

Kila chuckled as she pulled on her sleep shirt. "Well, I'll never understand it, but I like that you think so," she said. Then she slipped her arms around his neck and gazed up at him seriously. "All my usual sarcasm aside, though, I love you so much, I don't even _have_ the words."

"And I love you far more than I can express too," Qui-Gon replied, dropping a gentle kiss onto her lips.

Kila squeezed him tightly then let go regretfully. "Well … let's go and eat, old man," she said.

"After you, you little brat," Qui-Gon responded in a like tone, ushering her out of the bedroom with a firm swat to her behind.

Kila yelped then giggled. Married life with Qui-Gon Jinn promised to be so many things – exasperating, exciting, tender and funny – but it would certainly never be dull!

**THE END**


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